Ranger Sees The Light
by Emilie Martel and RE Nobert
Summary: Ranger ultimately comes to the hard realization that what he thought he wanted out of life is not what he really desires at all. Will Ranger ever go after the light at the end of the elusive tunnel or will he let it burn out? RHEA
1. Chapter 1

Ranger sees the light

After the unexpected death of his mother, Ranger rushes to Newark to help his father cope with his grief. In turn, the elder Manoso unwittingly shows his son what is truly important in life. Once Ranger returns to Trenton, he struggles with his father's words and with what he thinks could eventually make him happy, when he suddenly becomes sidetracked. A nemesis asks him to help a loved one in need of protection. Ranger ultimately comes to the hard realization that what he thought he wanted out of life is not what he really desires at all. Will Ranger ever go after the light at the end of the elusive tunnel or will he let it burn out?

Chapter 1

"Ranger. Please. I care for you. You know I do but I have to do this. Let me give Joe one more chance? If it doesn't work out …"

I did not take notice of the rest of her statement. I had heard it before. Stephanie Michelle Plum, the woman I had lusted after for far too long, had blown up another car, through no fault of her own, of course. I had come to her rescue yet again and then taken her home. I hoped I would be rewarded for my efforts, but alas, it was not to be.

My palms were planted on the wall, one on each side of her head, teasing her to spin my world. My lips were so close to hers that I could feel her breath cooling mine. I wanted her so badly at that moment that I would have said and done anything to convince her to let me take her to the moon and never come back. As usual, Stephanie had other ideas.

"Babe. You're killing me."

"I know and I'm sorry but I have to do this for me." She raised her delicate hand then pointed to herself. "Please. Stay away. No calls. No texts. No tracking me. Nothing."

Pushing away from the wall, I raised my hands in defeat.

"You win."

And there it was. I had not only lost the battle but the war as well, though I knew in my soul that I had fought the good fight. Would this instance be permanent? She had thrown that stone in the past but at that moment, it felt different, like my heart was truly broken and torn to shreds. Would I survive? I had been rejected by other women in the past and moved on. I could do it again. A fifth of some good scotch would probably do the trick. Pulling out my phone, ignoring several missed calls and texts, I tapped in some data then announced, "Your trackers are all disabled as requested. When you discover one, return it to Hector at the office. They're expensive." I tapped some more. "You can no longer enter the building without an escort. Your fob to my apartment is also disabled."

"Come on Ranger. Is that really necessary? Please don't be angry." She was sly, crafty and aggravating as hell.

"Your choice, Babe, not mine," I thought to myself. Apparently, I was angrier than I had imagined because I said. "Rangemen, its employees and its resources are no longer at your beck and call. If you need anything, any assistance you receive from them will be on their own time and at their own expense."

I had backed away and headed for the door.

"Ranger. Please, can you ever forgive me?"

I was no better at forgiving than forgetting.

"Goodbye, Stephanie. Good Luck."

My mind was clouded and my eyes burned with rage. After everything I had done for her, that is what I got? Fuck her. Pulling from my parking space, I barely missed a vehicle with squealing tires as it honked its horn and swerved to avoid me. I took a cleansing and calming breath then pulled back into traffic and headed home. My phone continued to buzz in my pocket but I ignored it thinking it was Stephanie changing her mind, yet again. I was not in the mood for her bullshit.

Once I had pulled into my parking space, I inhaled a few more calming breaths then took my pulse. Normal. Good. That was until I noticed the sign that I had commissioned with Stephanie's name on it so she would know that there was always a place for her there at Rangemen.

Not anymore!

Removing the crowbar from my trunk, I ripped the sign from the wall, taking a few chunks of concrete with it. I dropped the sign in the trash barrel beside the elevator, wiped the dust from my hands, and then hopped up the stairs to my fifth-floor office to offset my racing heartbeat. I unlocked my office door, slammed it shut then entered my private space. Leaning my palms on the edge of my desk, I forced more air in through my nose then out through my mouth as my office phone rang, my cell buzzed and Tank rapped at my door. I took my seat, ignoring them all. As I was lighting up my computer, Tank sauntered in.

"What do you want?" I snarled.

"What's got your panties in a bunch this morning?"

My business partner and best friend, an impressive building of a man of color, dropped into the chair across from my desk, crossed his ankle over his knee then leaned back comfortably, settling in for his morning chat. He tapped his pen, annoyingly, against his bottom teeth.

"Nothing!" I snapped back as I continued to slam my drawers needlessly. The message light on my desk phone was blinking madly and my cell buzzed again.

"Am I the only person working for this fucking outfit?" I yelled so everyone in the hallway and adjoining offices could hear. "I could make that happen."

Tank removed the pen from his mouth, let his foot drop to the floor, and leaned forward.

"Dude. What the hell?" His eyebrows rose. He knew I was not one to raise my voice or show my anger as I just had. I was the king of self-control.

"Shit," I said as I leaned back in my chair and ran my fingers through my hair. I was about to tell Tank what had happened knowing I would get an 'I told you so' when my cousin Les peaked his head through the small space he had created when he opened my door.

"Talk to your bro yet today, _primo_?" He asked.

"No. Why would I?" I asked.

My brother, my big brother, and I had been close at one time, but we had grown apart over the years. He lived near my parent's home in Newark and was called upon more often than he felt he should be to help with chores and errands, as were my sisters. Despite the fact that I lived over an hour away and paid for all of my parent's expenses, apparently, it was also my responsibility to share the minor duties such as taking out the trash, unclogging a drain, mowing the lawn or shoveling snow in the winter. The fact that I had purchased the machinery and tools to maintain their home, then paid for a service to come and do the work, and most other necessities was not a factor in their books.

"Call him." He said as my phones began to ring again.

Ignoring Les, I tapped a few words onto my laptop and brought up a standard email that I would forward to all of my staff when an employee was terminated. I inserted Stephanie Plum to the heading, hit send, and then turned my laptop so Tank could see what I had done.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not this time. I got my final walking papers this morning."

He released a rush of air then said, "No wonder you've got a major hair across your ass this morning. What happened?"

My lips had begun to part when Les returned. He entered my office and shut the door.

" _Llame_ _a su_ _hermano_ _._ _¡Ahora!_ _"_ Call your brother. Now! He said in a tone that I felt was disrespectful.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and counted to ten. I did not need to hear his whining after the morning I had had.

"Rick!" His voice and tone meant business, plus he used my given name. The name that was only permitted from family and close friends. "Now!"

My glare did not deter him.

"Seriously? Call him." He pointed to my phone. "It's Tia. Your mom." As he looked up at the ceiling, I thought I saw tears in his eyes. Angry, he turned and headed for the door. "It's bad, Rick. Man up."

Tank followed Les out into the hallway, where Les relayed the message I was about to hear. I dialed my brother.

"It's about fucking time you answer your goddamn phone."

"What's going on?"

He left me no time to cop an attitude.

"You need to come home. NOW!" He insisted.

"Why?"

"It's Mami. She's had an … episode. It's not good, Rick."

"Episode?"

"Her heart. Rick, please!" He begged. "Papi is calling for you. You need to be here for him. For all of us."

I was standing, checking my pockets for my keys, wallet and cell phone.

"I'm on my way."

My mind was racing. What the hell had happened? I had just spoken to my parents a few days earlier. I knew my mother had high blood pressure. Hell, I paid for the meds, but a heart condition? That was new to me. Apparently, the illnesses ran hand in hand.

Ella, my housekeeper, was exiting the elevator as I approached. Always one step ahead of me, she handed me a small black duffel then hugged me.

"I will pray for her," She said then covered her mouth to hide her sobs. She and my mother had been friends for many years when they both cleaned our elite neighbor's homes for extra cash.

As I entered the elevator car, I called out to Tank but he brushed me aside.

"Go. Your family needs you. We'll take care of things here. Go!" He said making shooing motions at me.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I drove to Newark on autopilot trying to keep my speed in check with the cruise control. A state cop was sitting in the median with his ray gun pointed right at me. He flicked his lights just as I passed him and pulled in behind me. I did not have time to deal with any law enforcement interaction, especially with the number of weapons both on my person and in my vehicle. Despite my legal permits, it would take time to verify their authenticity; precious time I could not afford to spend.

Luckily, he turned left into the next emergency median crossover and sped off in the other direction, lights flashing, and siren blaring. Within a few seconds, another, then another emergency vehicle flew in the same direction followed by a parade of fire engines, rescue vehicles and assorted civilian vehicles with flashing red lights perched on their roofs. Since they seemed to have bigger fish to fry at that moment, I tapped my cruise button a few times and increased my speed.

Amazingly, I arrived in Newark in record time. I dialed my brother.

"I'm here. Where are you?"

"Beth Israel Medical Center emergency room. Need directions?"

"Got it. Ten minutes."

"Hurry, Rick."

I disconnected, took a few turns then parked in the hospital parking lot with one minute to spare. Passing through the sliding glass doors, I tried to avoid the frantic mother carrying a crying little boy covered in blood, as a nurse arrived with a wheelchair for the boy. I snuck behind her ignoring the young woman trying to keep peace in the waiting room, then headed down the well-lit hallway, pulling back curtain after curtain in search of my family. My brother happened to open the green plastic drape, three or four stations in front of me.

"Thank God you're here." He said to me. "Papi?" He whispered to my father. "Rick is here."

"Ricky? Ricky _es aqui_?" My father's voice was distant and weak.

He turned in his chair to look at me as I entered slowly. The seriousness of the occasion apparently dawning on him, he began to sob. I dropped to the floor in front of him and held his suddenly frail body in my arms. My sisters were also crying as the erratic green line rested when the alarm sounded. They held each other while a group of nurses and doctors tried in vain to make that green line dance once more.

I vaguely heard the doctor offer his condolences just before we all returned to her bedside to say our goodbyes.

Papi stood on his own, leaned down and kissed his wife of nearly sixty years, letting his tears moisten her cheeks, then placed his hand over her face and shut her eyes. He kissed her again.

My brother stood alone, arms crossed, with his hand over his mouth shaking his head from side to side, whispering, "No, no, no." I draped my arm over his shoulder then pulled him to me. Any differences we may have had were forgotten for that moment.

The next few days were a blur: Planning the funeral, notifying other family members, especially my grandmother in Miami. My brother and sisters and their families did what they did best. They gathered in my parent's home at different intervals to feed and care for my father. I stayed overnight to keep him company.

Les arrived in Newark the night before the funeral to drop off the suit that Ella had pressed for me. She followed the next morning along with multiple vehicles filled with current and former employees, clients, friends, and foes. I was awestricken. I had always made a point of attending the wakes or funerals of my employee's families whenever possible or making a sizeable donation to their favorite charity, never thinking they would return the favor.

One face was noticeably missing. Stephanie Plum. Tank informed me that she had indeed gone to DC to be with Joe the morning my mother had passed. She had left a message on my office phone offering her condolences and apologized for not attending the services. She presented some excuse, money or time or some other such nonsense about Joe and made it clear that I was not to return her call. I would have moved heaven and earth to be with her at a time like that but I guessed that I just was not that important to her anymore.

We had had a short talk about finances, as a family, at my sibling's insistence, just before the funeral arrangements were made. I guess they did not want to be stuck with the bill. My siblings had nagged my father mercilessly thinking that my parents still held their checkbook. I had and would continue to handle his household and personal needs, at their request. My father did not want them to know. It was none of their business.

I remained with my father for the entire week. My brother, sisters and their spouses and children took their turns stopping over and advising him while leaving bits of wisdom and casseroles of food. The term 'helicopter' children came to mind. I remained in my childhood room for most of their stopovers, allowing them to visit while I worked on my laptop. As soon as they would leave, Papi and I would pack whatever they had left into individually labeled meal size portions to store in the basement freezer. After dinner, Papi and I would sit on the back deck, down some _cerveza_ , talk about years gone by and puff on the Cuban cigars I had managed to get from a friend of a friend who owed me a favor. An annual Christmas gift for my father.

On the last night of my stay, we actually talked about my mother. I had not pushed him. Like me, he was a very private man. He would speak when he was ready.

"You know I'm going back home in the morning, Papi."

" _Si_." He continued to look forward, off into some unknown realm.

"Will you be okay alone? At night, I mean?" I had heard him cry himself to sleep most nights.

" _Si_. I will be okay, _mi hijo_." Yes, my son.

"I can stay longer if you want me to," I offered, though I needed to get back to Rangemen. Tank and my core team had not taken a day off since the morning I had left.

"No, Ricky. You need to go home. Get back to your life and I will get back to mine. Tomorrow is Thursday. I play _Cubilete_ at the senior center on Thursday. Your mother and I, we … I cannot miss that."

 _Cubilete_ is a traditional Cuban dice game, second only to dominoes. My mother and father had taught us to play when we were children as part of our heritage training and they continued to play with their Cuban neighbors. My siblings also played.

"Are you sure, Papi?"

"Ricky! You have done so much for your mother and me. She was so proud of you, the way you turned your life around, my son." He touched my cheek and gave it a light pat. Tears welled up in his eyes. "I will miss you and her too, of course." He chuckled then became serious again. "Life goes on my son. I will manage. Your mother, she is still here," Glancing over towards her chair, the one with the handmade quilt that told many stories of my youth, "And here." He touched his heart. "I will be fine, my son. Do not worry about me."

"Papi. How can I not worry about you? You're my father."

"I will be lonely, yes, and I will cry, but I am still the luckiest man in all of America. I once had _mi_ _Carlita_ , _mi mejor_ _amigo e mi amante aqui_." My Carlita, my best friend, and my lover, here. He reached out, his beer in one hand and his cigar in the other as though encircling someone in a hug.

Papi had always called my mother _Carlita,_ a favorite term of endearment and she called him _Carlito_. Unless of course, she was angry then she would call him by his full given name: Ricardo Carlos Manoso. As children, we learned quickly that meant to leave the room. Now!

"Should I call you _Carlito_ from time to time?" I said then smiled as I tipped my beer to my lips.

He slapped my arm playfully.

"Why you were your mother's favorite, I will never know." He let out a bark of laughter that I had not heard since the last time I had visited with both of my parents, so I joined him. It had been a family joke since my trip to my grandmother's in Miami as a teen. My father had been her favorite as he was her only child, and she had told everyone that I was just like him. In many ways, I am just like him.

Then my father hit a sore spot.

"And you, Ricky. Will you be lonely too?"

"What do you mean? Of course, I will miss you and Mami."

He blew an innocent ring of smoke then continued as though speaking to it.

"I did not see your Stephanie. Is everything okay with you two?"

I measured my answer, unsure how to respond considering our last talk.

"I don't know, Papi. I don't think it's going to work out between us."

"Is it the cop as you call him?"

" _Si_ Papi. He moved to DC to train for the FBI and she followed him."

"Did you not ask her to stay with you?"

"I tried Papi, but she had her mind made up."

"She is stubborn, that one, no?"

"She is."

"You know, Ricky, it is none of my business," he began as he turned in his chair to look at me, "but if you really want her, you should go after her, make her your woman or let her go and move on with your life. Do you want her?"

Hesitating before I replied, I said, "I think so."

"You think so? That is no answer."

Did I really want her back? I did. At least, I thought I did.

"Yes."

"Well then, be a man. Grow a set, as you say," He said as he banged his fist on the armrest of the chair. "You cannot remain alone for the rest of your life, my son. You want her to abide by your rules? Give up something that she wants? Her dreams? You must be ready to sacrifice something you also want, in return. A good relationship is give and take, forgive and allow. I know this." He tapped his heart again. "You are a generous, caring, loving and sensitive man, Ricky. I see the good in you. Does she?" When he squeezed my hand, he said, "I know this too, Ricky. You are a very lonely man."

My father's pearls of wisdom. More food for thought.

Papi and I had a quiet breakfast the following morning. I hugged him with everything I had knowing he would be okay. He was a survivor. My mother had prepared him well. I promised him that I would call and visit more often. He agreed to come to see me in Trenton.

I was opening my car door as my father waved goodbye from the doorway. I turned to face him.

"Papi. Was it worth it?  
" _Disculpe me_?" Excuse me?

"Was it all worth it? Giving your heart to someone and now she's gone?"

Slowly he left the stoop, and stood beside me, resting his hand on my shoulder.

"Ricky. Your mother was a wonderful woman." He seemed confused at my comment as though I had insulted the woman he adored.  
"I know that, Papi. That's not what I meant."  
"Ah! I see now, what you are asking. You are asking if I had to do it again knowing it was only temporary, would I do it again?"

" _Si_."

"Everything in life is temporary, my son. And yes, I would give my heart to your mother, again and again, knowing that our time together may be limited because she had given her heart to me in return. She may be gone but my many memories, both good and bad, will live with me forever."

" _Gracias_ , Papi. _Te amo."_ Thank you. I love you.

He hugged me again.

 _"_ _Yo también te quiero._ _Conducir con seguridad_." I love you too. Drive carefully.

"I will Papi. _Adios_."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Once I'd hit the highway and set my cruise control, I drove back home on autopilot as I had when I arrived. I mulled over everything my father had said to me repeatedly. I was not getting any younger. Any hope I might have had of having another child, with Stephanie, if that was what she really wanted, would be dashed if I did not act quickly. I considered heading straight for DC to get her to bring her back but I knew I had a desk full of paperwork and I had arranged to meet with the core team before the end of the day to go over everything that had occurred during my absence. Tank had set up an appointment with a prospective new client early that afternoon so any other plans I had would have to take a back seat for a few days. I would definitely call her as soon as I had a free moment. Like it or not, she WOULD listen to me. She WOULD be mine. I could be flexible. I could bend to her wishes.

Who was I kidding? Hell, hadn't she just kicked me to the curb? Was our relationship mercifully over? Was it time to move on? A quick trip to my favorite bar in Philly would take of my personal needs for the moment, but even that would have to wait.

As I pulled into the underground garage, I found Tank talking to Scott, a new guy. Scott Martinelli had just finished his second tour in Iraq as a marine a month before I hired him. He was staffing the phones that morning, easing back into civilization. They seemed to be having a somewhat heated discussion. Tank waved me over.

"What's going on?"

Tank pointed to Scott.

"This knucklehead wants to patch a call to your private cell from someone on your 'check with supervisor first' list without 'checking with said supervisor'."

I was willing to talk to most anyone most anytime but there were some people, for reasons that were not Scott's nor anyone else's business, that I chose not to speak to.

"Who is it?" I asked Scott as he handed me a pink message slip.

"Ray Rigazio, sir. He said it was a matter of life or death."

When you look up the terms Italian Mafia or mob boss or even gumba in the dictionary, you will find a picture of Ray Rigazio; Short, chicken legs, big gut, bad comb over and dye job with lots of cheap bling lying on a hairy chest under a pastel leisure suit. Ray Rigazio was an old nemesis and current head of his neighborhood's Mafioso. He was not someone I wanted to have dinner with but I did not necessarily want him dead at my hand. We had an understanding due to our mutual affection for his niece, Connie Rizzoli. He did not involve my company or me in any of his illegal shenanigans and I did my best to ignore any sight of his people's illicit activities. Something must be up for him to call me.

I glanced at Tank. Then to Scott I asked, "When is the last time he called?"

"He's on the line now, sir. I told him I'd see what I could do. He's been on hold for about seven minutes."

He must be truly desperate to wait that long.

"Tell him I just walked in and that I'll take his call in my office."

As Scott relayed the message to Rigazio, Tank asked, "Are you nuts? You know what kind of shit he's involved with."

Encouraging Tank to follow me toward the elevator I said, "He's Connie's uncle. Her mother's sister's husband. I'll give him five minutes. I owe her that much."

Rumor had it that he may actually be her father, not her uncle. Not my business.

"Your funeral." Sheepishly he added, "Sorry. Poor choice of words. How's Papi doing, by the way?"

"Not too bad. He's tougher than I thought. Thanks for asking."

The elevator closed then opened again as we reached the offices on the fifth floor. My desk phone was buzzing as I punched my code into the lock. I picked it up when it rang for the umpteenth time.

"Mr. Rigazio. I apologize for the wait. I was just pulling into my building when you called. I've been away."

"I heard about your mudda'. My condolences."

"I appreciate the sentiment but I'm certain that isn't the reason for your call. What can I do for you?"

"D'is here is a personal call, Ranger. I need your help."

"What kind of help? I'm not hiding any bodies for you."

"No. No. It ain't nuttin' like d'at.' He chuckled. "It's my niece, Connie. You know Connie, right? She's d'a one d'at's in trouble."

"Connie? What kind of trouble?"

"Hey, it ain't what you t'ink."

"Get to the point, Ray. I'm a busy man."

"You ain't got much patience, Ranger, do you?"

"No, I don't. Tell me what you want or this conversation is over."

"Okay. Okay. I'll get to d'a point." He puffed on his cigar then continued. "Connie, she ain't a real pretty girl, you know d'at. And she's kinda heavy around the middle. Me and her mama, my late wife's sister, may she rest in peace, are trying to get her married off. It ain't right d'at she's still single at her age. D'at Frankie, he was a bum. People talk, you know what I'm sayin'? Like she's a tramp or queer or somethin'. My Connie, she ain't no queer."

"I agree. Connie is . . ." I guess it would be okay if she was a tramp but not gay. ". . . a very decent woman but I hardly see that this is a life or death situation."

"See, it's like d'is here. Connie contacted one of d'em datin' services t'ru d'a computa'. You know what I mean?"

"A lot of women do that. It can be safer than meeting a stranger at a bar."

"Don't you t'ink I know d'is? Anyway, my Connie, she ain't no dummy, she's cautious. She gives d'is guy a fake name."

"That was a very intelligent thing to do."

He agreed then mumbled. "She shoulda gone to church to meet a man. A good Cat'lic Italian man. By buddy, Lorenzo Napolitano, he's got a kid. Nice boy. A doctor. I could'a fixed her up wi'd him." He hollered something to someone apparently in the room with him then continued. "Anyway, here's d'a ting'. D'is guy d'at she was set up to meet. Called himself Ben Roberts. Turns out, he's Bobby Trapula's kid, Benny Trapula. You know him?"

"I've heard the name."

Entitled or 'affluenzic'. Extremely violent. Into drugs, prostitution and as stupid as a box of rocks. Not a nice guy.

"She didn't know d'at at d'a time 'til she sees him at d'a restaurant they was gonna meet at." Suddenly I knew where Ray was going. "He done time for assaulting his ex-wife and some other broad. Got a rap sheet d'at would make a younger Whitey Bulger look like a fuckin' priest. Before Connie knows what's happenin', bada bing, d'a guy's got her in'na choke hold."

Bobby Trapula was the head of his own neighborhood Mafioso. Bobby and Ray didn't see eye to eye. Bad blood had been shed between them and lots of it.

"Connie is pretty tough. She can handle herself."

I had personally been a witness to her dumping the contents of her purse on her desk while looking for a nail file. She had the nail file, nail polish, lipstick, a large can of Aqua Net hairspray, a pearl handled .38, set of brass knuckles, _nunchaku_ , a hairbrush, tampons and her car keys.

"Yeah, d'at's my Connie." He let out a belly laugh, "Listen to d'is. She back kicks d'a guy in d'a family jewels d'en shoots 'im in d'a foot for good measure, d'en runs like hell to d'a nearest cop. I woulda' like to 'ave seen d'at. You? Anyway, d'is cop, he proceeds to arrest d'is douche bag Trapula.'

"I still don't see . . ."

"Wait. I ain't finished."

"I'm listening." I said as I ran my hand over my face in frustration.

"Well, d'a kid gets charged wi'd assault again. T'ree time you're out, I hear, but anyways his old man, he bails him out. I guess cash is a little tight right 'cause he goes to Vinnie Plum for d'a dough. You know d'is Vinnie guy, right? He's a bum but he's my buddy Harry d'a Hammer's son-in-law."

"I know Vinnie. I don't understand why he would he post bail for someone who had assaulted Connie. She works for him. It makes no sense."

"Like I said, money's tight everywhere, Ranger. Except for you, I hear. Business been good, unh?"

"Good enough. We're paying the bills. I still don't see why you need my help."

"It's Connie d'at needs your help. Bobby Trapula found out it was my Connie what got his kid arrested. We ain't friends no more, _capisci_?" Understand? "We had . . . words. You know what I'm sayin'? Now he's got it in for her for gettin' the little prick arrested again. I t'ink d'at he's afraid he's going down for good d'is time." Ray mumbled again. "Like he ain't never been shot at before, d'a scumbag. She should'a' blown his fuckin' head off. You followin' me now?"

"I think I understand."

"He's been shootin' off his big mout' d'at he's goin' after her. D'a kid, d'at is. You know, to hurt her. She's been hidin' out until he has to go back to court. I t'ought maybe we could put our differences aside, you know what I mean? For Connie."

"So you want me to protect Connie?"

"Yeah. I t'ought I said d'at already. Wasn't you listenin'? Connie always said d'at I should call you if ever she needed anyt'in'. She said you was to be trusted."

"Have her contact me and I'll put her in a safe house."

"You see, d'at's d'a problem. I ain't talked to her since she disappeared. Ain't nobody else seen or heard from her e'der. She's on d'a run. I t'ink she took off 'cause she's scared. You hear what I'm sayin'? She needs to be found, d'en protected until d'is piece 'a shit Trapula gets locked up for good." Sullenly, he added. "Maybe he got her already, I dunno'. Ranger, you gotta help her." He begged. "I'll pay you, Ranger. I'll pay you anyt'in' you want. Name your price. I'll get you d'a money. You know I'm good for it."

"How long has she been missing?"

Connie has come to my mother's wake and the funeral so she couldn't have been gone for long.

"A few days. Two or t'ree."

"I'll find her, Ray."

"T'anks'. And you know, if 'dis kid is found w'id a pair 'a cement shoes at d'a bottom of d'a Delaware, I could kick in a little extra. You know what I'm saying?"

I could see him poking whoever might be standing next to him with his elbows, right after hiking up his light blue polyester pants.

"Look Ray. I'll find Connie. She's a good friend. I'll keep her safe until Trapula is tried and carted off to jail but I'm not doing your dirty laundry. We agreed on that a long time ago."

"Yeah. Yeah. I know. Can't blame a man for trying d'ough, right?"

"I suppose not."

"I owe you one, Manoso. Take care of my little girl."

"I will. You can count on me."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Tank had been standing in the doorway listening to our conversation while staving off possible eavesdroppers.

"We gonna do this?"

I leaned back in my chair raising my arms up over my head in a stretch. I needed to get back to the gym.

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough. I knew about what happened between Connie and the Trapula kid but I didn't know she was in hiding."

"When did all of this happen? How come I wasn't made aware of it?"

"The day after your mom's …. I thought you had enough on your plate."

"Right. We need an extraction plan, but first, we need to find her."

Leaning forward I began searching the internet for information that would help me find Connie. Keeping her safe would not be a problem as long as we could manage to find her before Trapula got to her.

My phone beeped that I had a text message. It was from Stephanie. 'Hi. How are you?' I was still unsure if I was prepared to talk to her, or even if I wanted to. What would I say? I had to make a choice. Find Connie or chat with Stephanie? The option was easy. I was not going to let her run my life any longer. Not that day, anyway. I ignored her call.

Tank and I were brainstorming where Connie might have gone when Les tapped on my door.

"What?" I called out. "I'm busy."

Les pushed the door open, followed by Bobby and Hector.

"You heard about Connie Rizzoli? She's missing, right?" Les began.

"I heard you got a call from Rigazio. You know the whole story?" Bobby asked.

I nodded then asked, "How do you know about that call?"

"Read it on the call log."

"What are we doing about it?" Bobby again.

"¿ _Vamos a_ _encontrarla_ , _si_?" Hector added. We are going to find her, yes?

" _Si_. We'll find her."

At that moment, I was tempted to call Stephanie for her help, after all. Not for me, but for Connie. Steph was one of the best researchers I had ever encountered, plus she had known Connie most of her life. She had a knack for sniffing out the truth, like a sixth sense. I was about to reach for my phone when Tank reiterated, "Guys. For now, the fewer people who know about this situation, the better. Got it?"

Hector missed nothing. He caught my quick glance at Tank. Taking his phone in his hand, he tapped in some data. I knew he was deleting Ray's call from the log.

I had guessed his comment was as much for my benefit as theirs. Stephanie could keep her mouth shut when told to but we needed to keep communications down to a minimum. Our phone lines were secure, but technology changed by the second. It was not always possible to keep up.

Les began again, "We need to think like Connie. Where would she go to feel safe?"

We tossed around a few places we knew she might trust like her grandmother's old house that remained vacant after her death, but nothing jumped out at us. Hector was quiet, his mind on rev. When he spoke, we listened.

" _Yo_ _sé dónde_ _se esconde._ _Lo sé_." I know where she is. I know.

He rounded my desk and tapped his way through my secure files. Had it been anyone else, I would have objected but Hector could get into anything he wanted. He was that good. After less than a minute of searching and a string of Spanish swears, mostly directed at me, he stopped, stood and smiled.

" _Aqui_." He said. " _Ella es aqui_." He turned my screen to face everyone, leaving glowing blue question marks on their faces. Here. She is here.

"What is that?" Bobby asked. He was an incredible medic, but his technical skills were lacking.

" _Aqui_." He said again. " _Ella es aqui_." Here. She is here.

"Are you sure?"

" _Si. Absolutamente_." Yes, absolutely.

Hector had pulled up a schematic of a security job we had done several years back. I loosely understood his personal codes and markings. Green lines designated where the feed lines for camera surveillance would go, blue denoted the light sensors. A third color, red, showed the lines going to the windows and door motion detectors. He again tapped the keyboard knowingly and an overlay of an architect's diagram of that same building appeared. One that he had acquired from the city assessor's office, as he always had, so he could set up the security system. If Hector was anything, he was thorough. The building's first floor was only about four to five hundred square feet but appeared to have a small attic and a basement. He easily slid one diagram over the other. The pieces of the puzzle suddenly fit together perfectly. He had found Connie, or at least where she would most likely be hiding.

The building was the illustrious bond office. In the back of my mind, I remembered Hector making mention at the time we installed his system, that Vinnie had a sort of apartment in his basement. It was leftover from the previous building owner. It was not much, but it had a few pieces of furniture, small kitchenette with running water, and a toilet. Vinnie used it for his dalliances, apparently. Hector had joked at the time about finding duck feathers on the floor so I had forcibly erased that memory from my mind.

Together we contrived an elaborate scheme to find Connie, get her to safety, all while hopefully confusing the hell out of anyone else looking for her.

I met with my afternoon client as the team gathered needed supplies: A half-dozen navy blue jumpsuits, baseball caps, acrylic paint, a furniture dolly, and several women's wigs. Ella went to work with her embroidery skills. Hal and Scott headed to Ramon's junkyard to find a large panel van. Cal designed and manufactured a magnetic logo.

"Good job, men," I said after our meeting as I surveyed our finished project. "First light, we head out." I still had not told them what we were doing exactly and why, but they never questioned my orders. The fewer people who knew the details, the better.

Tank, Les, Bobby, Hector and I filled my desk with our notes as we lobbed 'what ifs' back and forth to assure our success. After a few fist pumps, back slaps, and general testosterone spikes, we retired for the night. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

I was up before dawn and then headed out for my normal run, wanting to keep up the appearance of business as usual, in case we were being watched. We were.

Ray Rigazio had little formal education. He had clawed his way up the ladder with hard work and determination, earning every rung he had climbed, with the sweat of his brow. I had to respect the man for his efforts, which was why I had granted him a sort of ceasefire between us, although I disagreed with his career choice.

Bobby, or Robert Trapula to the business world, on the other hand, was well educated, well dressed and had been handed the position after the premature death of his father. There were rumors on the streets that he may have had a hand in his father's early 'retirement' but since it did not involve my company or me directly, I kept my nose clean. Robert Trapula was not someone you wanted to piss off needlessly.

Ray was old school and lived by ancestral rules. He also had a very deep love of family.

Bobby, on the other hand, had set up his own playbook. He played dirty. Very dirty. I was not surprised to discover that his people would be watching Rangemen for any signs of Connie, knowing that Ray would have called me and not Sebring, the head of another security firm in town, for help. It did not really matter, in the end, if Trapula knew that we had Connie. Once we had her, we could keep her safe.

Meanwhile, in another part of town, a team of six of my men, dressed in matching uniforms, descended upon Connie's home, just outside of a mostly Italian neighborhood in Trenton that we reverently called Guinea Gulch, a few short blocks from Officer Joe Morelli's home and that of his mother.

My men left an abandoned warehouse near Stark Street, then drove to Connie's house making a few appropriate detours for the fun of it, just before 8 AM. Once there, they poured out of the white and blue panel van marked 'Benito and Marietta Movers'. Their job, as far as they knew, was to pack up, then remove any and all of Connie's furniture and personal belongings. The word we'd spread on the street was that Connie had skipped town to avoid Benny Trapula's wrath and was having her things stored until they could be sold since she was strapped for money. A for sale sign was placed on her front lawn and her car was taken to her uncle's house. Ray Rigazio was directed to make a covert appearance, implying this was all his doing, then steal from the scene giving credence to the farce we had created. He could have won an Oscar for his portrayal of the mob boss rolling down the tinted rear window of his limo, and then back up again as he instructed his driver to pull from the curb.

Other staff members drove several vehicles to and from clandestine locations, picking up and dropping off family members camouflaged to resemble a dark-haired woman - Connie. The vehicles danced through the street of Trenton like a well-choreographed ballet.

Tank and I headed to Vinnie's around ten. I parked my Porsche in the back lot, popped the trunk covertly, then walked around the building and made our grand entrance through the front door. Lula was there to answer the phone while Vinnie tried to cope with Connie's absence. He was flustered with the amount of work Connie filtered through easily, no less appreciative of her efforts. We spoke animatedly for effect, Lula contributing to our ruse, though she had no idea. She had to be the worst liar in the world unless the matter suited her needs. Stephanie could have kept her under control. Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I found she had left another text. 'Hi. Are you okay?' Later, Babe.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched a black and yellow BMW with oversized rear tires, and booming rap music loud enough to screw with a person's alpha rhythm and cause seizures, creep past the office. It was the same vehicle that had followed me on my early morning run. Benny's buddies could not have been more obvious if they had stuck their head out of the sunroof and shouted, "we're here". I texted a quick message to Hal, who was heading up the team at Connie's residence. His immediate reply was that the mini gumbas in training had indeed driven by at least twice.

Good to know.

I texted Hal back, to keep me posted if they returned and when then they left again so I could time my maneuver. I guessed that they were making the rounds between Connie's home, Rangemen, the bond office and trying to follow the black SUV charade in fifteen to twenty-minute intervals. Les was in charge of that part of the motorcade and Scott was monitoring the traffic in front of the office, so I texted them too.

When the text came in that they had just arrived at Connie's, I left Tank to deal with Vinnie and Lula. I excused myself to use the restroom then scurried down into the basement. I had ten maybe fifteen minutes max.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The damp and dreary space was filled with cardboard boxes and metal file cabinets, a three-legged old desk, a torn sofa with unspecified stains, a few trashed computers and monitors and fresh footprints in the dust. The thin line of yellow light behind a closed door suddenly disappeared.

I had studied Hector's schematic and knew that, due to their color, there were other surveillance wires hanging that he had not installed. As I followed their path, I discovered that the feeds were connected to a video camera system that was not intended to monitor intruders but invited guests. What a pervert!

"Connie?" I whispered hoping that Connie would recognize my voice. She made no move. Unsure if it was really her behind the door, I pulled my gun from under my jacket and trained it on the door. Leaning my back against the wall, my gun at the ready, I tapped the door gently.

"Connie?" I tried again.

The doorknob turned slowly. I knew that although she might consider opening the door, her foot would still be behind it. Having grown up in a mob type environment, Connie was always cautious. "Connie," I called again. "It's me. Ranger."

The door opened enough for me to see the glint in her eyes.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes," I said just before she launched herself into my arms. "Oh, thank God."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm starving and I need a shower. Other than that I just want to get the hell out of here and go home."

Her hair was disheveled, and she had deep circles under her eyes. Her clothes had been slept in for more than one night. I wondered when she had last eaten a decent meal. She had been off the grid for nearly a week.

"Come on. We only have five minutes."

I unlatched the small basement window then created a sort of stairway of boxes to place under it. I gave her a boost then told her that I had to go back upstairs before I was missed but that I'd left my trunk unlocked and what I wanted her to do. Watching her move, I was unsure if she could handle the task on her own.

"Can you make it?"

She nodded.

I returned to find Vinnie still fighting with Connie's computer while Lula had Tank cornered. They had a past, the poor sonovabitch. The fear of all things evil was set deeply on his face.

As soon as I appeared, Tank slithered from Lula's grasp and came to my side for protection.

"You owe me big time, you bastard." He said as he backed up toward the door. Checking my trunk lid, if I found it to be ajar, it meant that Connie had not had the strength to get out of the basement on her own or that she was not able to shut it. I hesitated for a second until I saw her fingers dangling from under the handle just before it closed. I later noted that Connie had taken the time to fasten the basement window to cover her tracks. She had made it.

Tank and I were about to leave when Benny and his crew drove by again. They slowed and watched us so I perched myself on the edge of the desk as if I had all of the time in the world. They sped off, heading for one of the other locations, no doubt.

"Don't you find it odd that we've only seen these three numb fucks driving around? You'd think Trapula would have his whole crew out looking for her." Tank asked as we pulled into traffic. "Or at least drive separate vehicles to cover more ground."

"Benny's not known for having any excess gray matter between his ears." I shrugged.

"Maybe the old man has a drug shipment coming in that requires his employees at the moment. We'll talk to Hector when we get back. See if he's heard anything on the street." After a beat Tank continued, "I guess we shouldn't be surprised that there's only one vehicle on the lookout. From what I hear, Benny's doesn't have many friends at the moment. He's known to be a backstabber and has burned far too many bridges for a man of his age. He probably won't live long enough to hit 40."

"Hector says he's always been a little fuck-up."

Thinking back, I should have been more aware of the situation, but Connie's safety was my main concern at that moment. Bobby Trapula was indeed, very well staffed. Why was there only one vehicle looking for Connie? We would find out soon enough but at that moment, we did not have time to worry about his payroll. We needed to get Connie to safety before they discovered that we had her.

I had brought a small cooler with an assortment of food for her which I had placed on the rear bench beside the section that folds down to access the trunk. I didn't know if she'd had access to proper food while in hiding. When I glanced back a moment later, I found the container and its contents had disappeared. Taking a few unplanned turns to lose any tail we may have had, I returned to the Rangemen building and backed up to the service elevator in the rear of the garage. I popped my trunk open just as I rounded the car by the elevator door.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm probably going to throw up from eating too fast but I'm so damned hungry." She said as she pushed the last bite of the second of the chicken salad sandwiches I had brought her, into her mouth and sucked down the last of the water. "Thanks."

I helped her out of the trunk as Tank opened the door to the lift.

"I've got this." He said taking my keys from my hands. "You deliver the package."

Connie was as weak as a kitten and trembling. I was afraid that she might go into shock, so I held her close to me as we rose to my apartment on the seventh floor.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. It was Stephanie again. 'Where are you?' I did not have time for her at that moment. Connie needed me.

By the time we reached the door to my apartment, Connie could barely stand from the adrenaline crash. I offered to carry her, but she refused.

"Let me call Bobby to check you out."

"I'll be okay." She raised her chin. "I won't let that rat bastard Trapula defeat me."

"He won't," I said as I lifted her anyway, and then let her drop softly onto my bed.

"I need a shower." She mumbled as she rolled onto her side, fast asleep, without a care in the world.

I knew she would be asleep for a while so I returned to my office to take care of any remaining details of our extraction. Two hours later, Hal texted Tank, to tell him that he and his crew had finished their assignment and were on their way back. Waiting for Trapula and his goons to make one last pass, they had taken the long way back to Rangemen. After stopping in a back alley to lose their tail, they drove the van back to the abandoned warehouse that I owned where they removed the magnetic logo they had used for the move. They emptied a case of black spray paint, and then replaced the original sign with a Rangemen logo. Once they had had something to eat, they returned and unloaded the truck into the service elevator and placed all of Connie's things: the boxes and furniture into the storage room beside my apartment on the seventh floor.

Taking a few moments, I tried to call Stephanie but the call went right to voice mail. I was not sure what she wanted exactly or what I was supposed to say to her since she had just recently told me to buzz off, so I left no message.

It had been a long and strenuous day as I had expected. I called Ray Rigazio to confirm that Connie was safe. He thanked me profusely and reiterated that he owned me. I told him again that I had done it for Connie, not him and that he owed me nothing. He was not a man to accept charity so I knew that was not the end of the story.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Finally making it up to my apartment around seven, I expected to find Connie still asleep. I had left her a note to make herself at home, should she wake up, and where she could locate some clean clothes until her things arrived. Instead, I found that she was not only awake, but she had showered and dug out some of the clothes that I normally kept for Stephanie. A casserole was resting on the counter, while two wine glasses and an open bottle of spirits was breathing on the breakfast bar.

"Hey," I said. "You're up. I thought you'd sleep through the night."

"Nah. That's all I've been doing lately, although, I've got to admit, your bed is like sleeping on a cloud."

Stephanie had used those exact words to describe my bed, the few times she had spent in it alone or with me.

"I'm glad you got some real rest. How are you feeling?"

"Okay. I'll live. I hope you don't mind," she said as she filled the wine glasses. "You said to make myself at home so I took a shower. It's no wonder Stephanie raves about it."

"She does?"

"Yeah. Actually, she described it exactly. Oh, and I made dinner. I used what there was."

"I'm surprised you found anything. I don't do much cooking. As you know, Ella makes my meals."

"No problem. I managed. I'm good at inventing as I go. I live alone too, and work for Vinnie, remember? Besides, I knew better than to call you or ask your housekeeper."

"She knows I'm protecting someone but doesn't know who yet. She's not stupid though. She'll figure it out. You'll meet her later."

"Is that safe?" She said as she sipped her wine.

"Ella is the picture of discretion. She can be trusted."

She smiled. The circles under her eyes would fade in time.

"Thank you, Ranger. Thank you for everything. I don't know how much longer I could have survived down there." She pulled two plates and two bowls from the cupboard along with silverware from the drawer. "Hungry?"

"I am."

"I know it's not what you're used to but I hope you enjoy it. You can run an extra mile in the morning." She laughed, then reached into the fridge and pulled out a large salad bowl and set it on the counter. After doling out two generous portions, sprinkling them with olive oil and lemon juice, she set one dish out for each of us at the bar.

"Why don't we eat at the dining room table?"

"Do you normally eat dinner at the dining room table? Because you certainly don't have to be so formal on my account. I eat in front of the TV, off of the coffee table."

"I do, actually."

I explained that the habit dated back to my childhood. My parents always insisted that we all eat together, at the formal dining room table, to share our day with each other.

"Okay then. Formal it is. I'll take the salad and wine if you can take the lasagna."

With her arms full, she still managed to place the food she had carried to the table without dropping or spilling anything. Hardened to Stephanie's failings, I had become accustomed to cleaning up her messes.

" _Saluti,_ " Connie said as we tapped glasses. "How was your day, other than rescuing said damsel in distress?"

"Busy. Oh, by the way, your house is empty and your car is in your uncle's garage."

"I don't understand."

"My men packed up your things. Everything is in my storage room." I tossed a thumb over my shoulder."

"Why did you do that, exactly?" She asked.

"We spread the word that you had left town to get away from Trapula. Packing up your stuff was just part of the diversion we had to engage in. You'll get it all back when this is over. We also placed a 'for sale' sign on the lawn, at your uncle's request. But don't worry. It's all just for show."

"I should probably sell that endless money pit anyway. I've always hated that house. My ex picked it out and I ended up with it and the mortgage in the divorce settlement since he had no job and was on his way to the big house for an indefinite period of time. There's always something broken or leaking. I spend more money on repairs than on my mortgage. I should have bought out the family and moved into my grandmother's house after she died. I have a lotta junk but some things were my grandmother's. They have sentimental value."

"My men assured me that they were very careful. They know I'd kill them if anything was broken. This is really good Connie." I cut another small piece of the casserole, more than I normally ate but it was delicious and I savored every extra calorie.

"Glad you like it. It's my grandmother's recipe. Well, sort of. You didn't have all of the spices I would normally use and I had to do a little improvising but it's close."

"It's very tasty. Maybe when this is all over, you can make it for the men. I know they'd love it." I wiped my lips then placed my napkin beside my place. "I'm stuffed."

Connie dabbed at her mouth, set her napkin beside her plate as I had, then rested her elbows on the table while steepling her fingers to her lips.

"Speaking of … where do you want me to stay until this is all sorted out? Will you be taking me to a safe house?"

"I can if you'd like. I would usually set you up in an empty apartment downstairs but I want to keep your location a secret for the time being plus I don't have any units available at the moment unless you want to bunk with Les."

"No thanks. I've got enough guy problems at the moment. I don't want to have to deal with that man-whore."

"He's all talk. He's not that bad."

"If you say so." She sipped more wine while allowing the edges of her lips to turn up slightly.

"Actually, he offered to move in with Bobby so you could have his apartment."

"Really? That's very sweet of him but, no. Your people have all done enough for me. Whatever you have planned for me is fine. But …" she added as she shook her finger at me. "I want to pay my way. Earn my keep."

"Connie, that isn't necessary."

"Oh yes, it is. There must be something I can do for you. I… I'll cook or clean for you. I can do the laundry. Whatever needs to be done. Anything."

"Ella does that."

"I could help her."

"She has a routine that works just fine for her."

Connie stood abruptly scooping up all of the dishes and placed them on the kitchen counter.

"I can't just sit around all day doing nothing, Ranger. I'll go batshit crazy. And I'm not a charity case. I'll earn my keep or I won't stay."

I had to pinch the bridge of my nose. Why are independent woman so unwilling to accept help from anyone else? Then I thought of something that would benefit both of us.

"Listen. I know what you can do. I need someone to do my searches for me. Stephanie did them occasionally but she's gone now and I could use your help. My men are not very good at it since most of them aren't local. You are and you know as many people as Steph does, if not more."

"Okay. I can do that. Stephanie said the programs are easy to learn. I shouldn't have any trouble. Yeah. I'll do that for you. Anything else?"

"How would you feel about doing the payroll? Tank and I are, how shall I put this, number challenged? We toss a coin every week to see who gets stuck with it. It takes us forever. Someone with your background could do it in no time."

"Great. I did payroll for Uncle Ray before I worked for Vinnie. Consider it done. Anything else?"

"I would recommend that you not get too close to Tank when we tell him, though."

"Why not?"

"If he decides to hug you, he could break your ribs."

Connie laughed. It was a beautiful sight.

"Seriously, what more can I do for you?"

When we entered the bond office earlier that day, Vinnie was bitching that Connie was not getting her job done. He felt she could sneak in and do it at night or from wherever she was hiding. Wasn't that what the internet was for? His comments and lack of sympathy for her situation had angered me to no end.

I had wanted to do something for a while and that was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of a bad situation and turn it in my favor.

"Listen, Vinnie is unable to run the office without you. You know that, right?"

"I heard him scream at Lula while I was tucked away in my cell."

"I'll tell him that someone here will take over your duties until you return."

"Hmm." She said as she leaned her chin into the palm of her hand. "Do I smell a rat?"

"No, Vinnie isn't here."

Connie laughed again.

"Oh my God, Ranger. Did you just make a joke?"

I thought about it for a second. Apparently, I had.

"So, I'll do my regular job, but here instead. How will I get paid? Vinnie will know where I am if you bill him for my hours plus he's got a really big mouth."

"For one thing, if Vinnie knew where you were, told anyone and they decided to come after you, there is no way they could get to you here. This building is secure. Trust me on that. Plus, I'd kill the little weasel and he knows it. This will give me the opportunity I've been looking for to move in and pull the rug out from under him before knows what hit him. Word is, he's about to run it into the ground."

"You're right about that. Do you think you can convince him to sell it to you?"

Connie was scraping the dishes into the disposal before she loaded the dishwasher.

"Not a doubt in my mind. I have a feeling that his father-in-law would agree with me and might help me out. Besides, your uncle owes me a favor." I refilled our wine glasses then we tapped glasses again, satisfied with our day's accomplishments.

As the evening progressed, after picking up in the kitchen, we had made our way into the sitting room, and the bottom of the bottle of wine when Connie asked, "Where are your extra sheets? I'll make up a bed for myself on the couch. Oh and I'll need a pillow too if you can spare it."

"No. You'll sleep in my bed," I announced as I carried the wine glasses to the dishwasher.

A little bit tipsy, she said. "Ranger. I'm not sleeping with you. Nope. Sorry. Not gonna happen. I'll sleep here on the couch or I'll go throw Les out of his bed."

I chuckled.

"Connie, as much as the prospect of spending the night with you would beguile me, I had every intention of sleeping on the couch myself. If that makes you uncomfortable, I'll go throw Les to the curb."

"Ranger. Really. I appreciate your generosity but what about Stephanie. It's bad enough that I'm here in your apartment with you, never mind sleeping in your bed. I can't do that to her."

"Connie, listen to me. I won't deny that I care for Stephanie. I care for her very much but she has made it very clear that she is not interested in me that way. You're doing nothing wrong by being here."

"I don't believe that it's over. I've seen the way you two look at each other. There's something there. A spark. Something."

"Trust me. There's nothing there." I took a breath. "Not anymore. And it's doubtful there ever will be again."

"You can't mean that."

Although Stephanie appeared to be trying to make contact, I still had my doubts that we would ever be together the way I had hoped. That would take a miracle and I had not been to church or prayed in far too long for that to occur.

"You take the bed, Connie. I'll stay with Les. It's late. We'll work out something better tomorrow if you'd like."

Heading for the door, I added. "Good night, Connie. Sleep well."

"Good Night Ranger. And thanks for everything."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The following morning, after my run, gym time and shower in the locker room, I took the stairs to my apartment to dress for the day, have breakfast and check in on Connie.

Freshly brewed coffee and breakfast choices were waiting beside the stove. The dishwasher was running. Connie was lying in the middle of the living room floor finishing her yoga routine.

"Hey." She said as she stood. "Hungry? It's all set to cook. Tell me when you're ready and I'll get it started." She wiped the sweat from her brow then reset her ponytail. "Did you sleep okay? Les doesn't snore, does he?"

"Like a bear. I'll be ready in a few. I'm going to get dressed." I headed for my bedroom. The bed had been stripped along with the bathroom towels and the washing machine was spinning.

Pulling a few things from my drawers, I showered then dressed before I returned to the kitchen where Connie was humming something familiar while whipping up whatever she had intended for breakfast.

"Ready for breakfast yet?" She asked again once I had returned.

"Yeah. Sure."

"I had a veggie omelet planned. Okay with you?"

"Sounds great." Pulling out dishes and silverware, I set our place settings at the bar then poured two glasses of orange juice.

Connie was standing at the stove folding what looked like an omelet for a small platoon.

"Wow! That's a huge omelet."

"I know. I'm sorry. I got used to making huge meals for my family. Can't stop myself."

I knew that Connie was an only child but her father, an alcoholic, had died when she was very young so her mother had moved in with the grandmother and the younger siblings, to make ends meet.

"You don't eat that much, do you?" Connie carried a little extra padding but she carried it well. Voluptuous, feminine and curvaceous were words a man would use to describe Connie's build.

"Hell no. However, I do have a huge freezer which reminds me, is there any way that I could go through some of my things later today? Stephanie's clothes are a little tight."

Personally, I was thinking that tight on Connie was a good thing.

"Sure." She handed me a plate with a reasonable portion of eggs and dry wheat toast. "I'll talk to Ella. She'll help you get adjusted up here. You can give her a grocery list too."

Taking her plate to the breakfast bar to join me she said, "I hate having Ella do all of this for me."

"It's her job plus you can't leave the building yet. God, these eggs are really good. I'm going to grow a gut if I don't pace myself."

"I doubt that, but I'm glad you like my cooking. I'll give Ella a list of the things I need but I don't really know what you like besides twigs and branches."

"Where did you get that idea?"

"Stephanie. She said that you don't eat normal food, just twigs, and branches."

"That's not true, though I do try to eat healthily."

"I'd like to but I'm Italian. It's all about the pasta and cheese." After another bite, she added. "You said you don't cook. Is it because you don't like to or don't know how?"

"Time. I'm usually up at four and in the gym or out running by 4:15. I shower then come back upstairs for breakfast, usually just a bagel, juice and coffee. I'm at my desk by six and don't get back here until seven or eight at night. Sometimes later."

"Those are long days."

I shrugged.

"Keeps me out of trouble."

"Don't you ever take any time off? Stephanie said that you don't."

"Occasionally. I am the boss after all. That is when I cook for myself. I enjoy it and I'm actually a very good cook. My mother insisted that we all learn."

"So you know how to cook Cuban food?"

"Absolutely, I do."

"I love to cook. I bought a Cuban cookbook, but I don't think the author had ever heard of _ropa vieja_."

"You know about _ropa vieja_? That's my father's favorite. It literally translates to old clothes. It's considered peasant food. Something the poor would eat. Cheap yet plentiful. I'd be happy to teach you some authentic Cuban dishes if you're interested."

"Really? That would be great. Maybe you could show me some of your family's other favorites, too, if you wouldn't mind."

"My pleasure."

Connie stood to take our plates to the sink.

"Wait," I said as I placed my hand on hers. "I'm sorry if I was a little terse with you last night."

"Don't worry about it. I pushed. I shouldn't have. Truce?"

"No truce necessary. Anyway, what I was going to say is that I've been thinking about the sleeping arrangements. I understand how you feel. So here's what I propose." I laid out my plan as we cleaned up our breakfast dishes and took them into the kitchen. "I have two living rooms in case you hadn't noticed; the sitting room with the fireplace and the more formal area for guests. There is an office just beside it which I seldom use." I pointed to the open door to the office.

"I noticed the office. I thought you might want me to work there since I can't go down to the offices below."

"Yes, I do but in addition to that, with your approval, of course, I'd like to move some of that living room furniture into storage temporarily. I never use that room anyway. Not sure why I built it. I don't know that I've ever even sat on that couch."

"Okay with me. It's your stuff."

"I'll move the office furniture into the living room. That will leave the office area empty. I could move your bedroom set and some of your personal things in there. It also has an anteroom that was intended for file storage that you could use as a sitting area. I know that you like to read, plus it has its own bath. It's considerably smaller than mine but it has a shower." After taking a gulp of my coffee, I continued. "What do you think? You'd have a bedroom suite of your own and private space."

"Sounds great but are you sure you want to go through that much trouble?"

"Connie, you may be here for a while. I want you to be comfortable, to consider this your home until you can get your life back on track.

"I don't know what to say. That's very generous. What would I pay you for rent?"

"There'll be no rent. Not only is this about a friend helping out another friend, my employees are all entitled to living quarters here. It comes in handy when we work extended hours or they're on call. Plus, you'll have your hands full putting in long days running searches, doing payroll, and your old job setting up shop here for bonding as well. You'll receive a regular salary and benefits like any other employee."

She let out a breath as she thought about it.

"Well, is it a deal?"

"I won't be in your way?"

"Not in the least. Plus, I like your company." I smiled.

I had quickly come to understand what my father was trying to tell me. In reality, I was tired of living alone. Waking, eating, sleeping alone, and attending family functions alone. My world had become mundane, routine and boring. I was more consumed with my work than my personal life, my sex life notwithstanding. That needed to change.

Smiling, she reached out to shake my hand. "Deal."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I called Hector and my core team up to my apartment to get Connie set up in the Rangemen system. Someone suggested using an alias temporarily so that no Rangemen employee would know she was there and could not accidentally spill the beans. Tank recommended that we pay Connie in cash then right the books later. Since our payroll was done in-house on an internal server and not through the internet, Hector felt confident that no one else would see her name on the roster as Connie would be doing payroll.

Since very few of my employees knew that Connie was in the building, in addition to her things, that left the heavy lifting and furniture moving to me, Tank, Les, and Bobby. Connie rolled up her sleeves and did her share and more. She was much stronger than I would have given her credit for.

By late afternoon, Connie was settled and hard at work learning our systems with Hector, Tank, and Rodriguez, accordingly.

I took a few moments to give my father a call.

"Hey, Papi. ¿ _Como esta usted_?" How are you?

"Ah!" He groused. "Your sisters, they are finally gone. They are going to drive me _loco_ , Ricky. 'You have to eat, Papi. Let me do that for you, Papi. Are you okay, Papi? Have you been to the bathroom today, Papi?'"

I began to laugh then apologized.

"It is not funny, Ricky."

"Sorry, Papi. What can I do to help the situation?"

" _Disparales_. Shoot them. All of them. _Usted tiene_ _un arma, ¿no?"_ You have a gun, no?

"Papi, do you really want me to shoot your daughters?"

"No. No. Of course not. But, I am going to have to buy another freezer if they do not stop bringing me food. I have enough red beans and rice to feed all of Cuba for a month."

"Papi. I think you may be exaggerating."

"No. I am not." He chuckled. "Well, maybe _un poco"._ A little bit.

"Are you ready to take a trip to Trenton yet? I'm very busy at the moment but I could make time in a few days to drive out to pick you up."

"That would be very nice and I appreciate the offer but I can still drive, Ricky."

"I know that. I just want to make sure that you know that you're welcome anytime, Papi. I thought it might do you some good to get away from the girls for a few days."

" _Gracias_. I will call you." Changing the subject, he interjected. "And you, how are you doing, my son? Your friend Stephanie, is everything satisfactory between you now? _"_

"I haven't spoken to her yet, Papi."

"And why have you not spoken to her?"

"I haven't had time, Papi. As soon as I got home, I had a job to do. A friend needed my help. I've been helping her."

"Aha! _Una Mujer_."

" _Si_ , Papi. A woman. A very nice woman."

 _"_ _¿Es ella bella?"_ Is she pretty?

" _Si Papi, Ella es muy hermosa."_ She is very beautiful.

"Is she your new woman?"

"No Papi. She's just a friend who needs my help."

"What does she need your help with?"

"I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that she needs the kind of services we provide here."

"Does she need food too, because I may have to take a trip to the food pantry soon?"

"Funny, Papi."

Tank and Les appeared at my door, both waving their 'hellos'.

"Papi. I have to go but Tank and Les both send their best wishes."

" _Gracias. Buenos Dias_ to them too." Thank you. Good Day.

 _Adiós_ , my son. _Te amo_." I love you.

" _Adiós_ , Papi. _Yo también te quiero_ _."_ I love you too.

"How's he doing?" Tank asked.

"Great. I'd like to get him to stay with me for a while."

"What about, you know who?" He whispered, referring to Connie.

"Papi won't talk. I'll threaten to sic my sisters on him again if he does."

"Seriously? You'd do that your own flesh and blood?"

"Only if I have to." I laughed. "I actually need to get him away from my sisters. They're driving him nuts. Hell, he asked me to come to Newark and put them all out of his misery. He even asked me if I had a gun."

" _Tio_ said that?" Les asked.

"He did. They're hovering over him like vultures. It won't last, though. I know my sisters."

"Looking for a handout?" Bobby said as he passed me a new prospect's folder to evaluate.

"That would be my guess." I opened the file and perused it quickly before I spoke. "Talk to me," I said, wanting more details.

"Scott took the call. A male calling himself Bobby Trapula is looking to put in a system in his home. Wants to come by and talk to you personally."

"You said 'a male calling himself Bobby Trapula'. Do you have doubts?"

"Scott said he knows for a fact that the Trapula place is already set up and monitored by Sebring."

"How does he know that?"

"Scott's older brother dated one of the Trapula girls. Angie maybe."

"So why is he calling Rangemen? Why does he want to come here to this building and why is he asking for me personally?"

"Not sure. Scott also said that old man Trapula hasn't gone by Bobby since he took over the business when his dad died. He goes by Robert now. More professional, apparently."

"And…" I knew there was more to the story. Why was Robert Trapula pretending to be someone he was not?

"Scott thinks that it was actually Benny calling."

"For his father? Doesn't make sense. I'm sure Robert can handle his own affairs."

We all looked at each other, putting the puzzle pieces together, one by one.

"Connie."

We all said in unison.

"Not _for_ his father but _as_ his father. Benny wants in this building so he can look for Connie. He must suspect that she's here and if he gets in, he could get to her. Dumbass. Like that's ever gonna happen." Les and Bobby bumped fists.

 _¿Hay que trasladarlo a_ _una casa de seguridad?"_ Hector asked. Should we move her to a safe house?

"No. We're not moving her to a safe house. That's what they want and she's been through enough already." I picked up my office phone and dialed Scott's number. "Scott, are you in the building?"

"Yes, sir. Just walked into the lunch room."

"My office. Now!"

The lunchroom was located across the hallway and not more than twenty feet from my office. Scott knocked on my door in less than ten seconds.

"Come in," I said as Tank opened the door. "I hear you took a call from someone named Trapula today. Care to elaborate?"

"Yes, sir."

"At ease."

Moving his left foot slightly so that his feet were shoulder width apart, the young marine rested his hands together in front of him. Scott stood in front of me and spoke.

"Thank you, sir." He cleared his throat then began. "At 1310 hours, an adult male phoned the main line and introduced himself as Bobby Trapula. I asked what Rangemen could do for him. He proceeded to tell me that he was interested in procuring one of our security systems for his home in Ewing and his summer home in Point Pleasant. At that time, I checked our cross-reference system and confirmed that our competitor Les Sebring, had already secured that account. I then asked if this was a new system or was he interested in upgrading his present system. He seemed confused then said that he wanted a completely new system. That's when I tagged Hector." He said, then took a short breath before he continued.

"I kept the subject talking to be sure that Hector could ping his phone to determine his location. I asked him very specific questions about the residences, according to the questionnaire provided to me at the front desk. He could not or would not answer. Sir, may I be blunt?"

"Go ahead."

"Robert Trapula is very astute and informed. The man I was speaking with seemed nervous and unsure of himself. He then demanded that I make an appointment to come to the Rangemen building immediately. He wanted to look around the building to see how we did things. He said you knew him personally and to make an appointment with you only. I told him that I would check with my supervisor."

Sheepishly he added as he glanced at Tank. "I learned my lesson from the Rigazio call, sir." He went on. "Hector had placed the phone the man was calling from to be stationary at the corner of Haywood and Chestnut, two blocks away. That's a parking lot, sir." He pointed to the file on my desk. "Those are copies of the readouts Hector made when he activated the voice recognition system. He compared them to existing recordings Rangemen has on file for both Robert and Benny Trapula."

I slid the papers beside each other and viewed the matching and dissimilar scratch lines.

"You can see, sir that the person I was speaking to was Benny Trapula not his father Robert." He swallowed then added as he pointed to the file again, "It's all there in my notes in that folder, sir."

"I'm impressed, Scott. This is very helpful."

"Just doing my job, sir."

"Fine. You may return to your post, soldier."

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad I could be of assistance." With that, he left my office.

Once he was out of earshot, Les said, "Wow, kid's gotta learn to relax. This ain't Camp Lejeune."

"Really?" I said with my head down reviewing all of the information that Scott had gathered. "You could take a page from that young man's book and learn some respect."

"Fuck you, Manoso." He pretended to joke.

Keeping my gaze lowered as I flipped through Scott's carefully detailed notes, I added, "If I didn't love my _Tia_ Sophia so much, I'd send her only son home in a body bag."

"Better yet," Tank added, "we could just make him disappear altogether."

I wanted to know what the hell was going on so I decided to give Robert Trapula a call.

Tank, Bobby, and Les had made themselves comfortable in my office, as I punched in Robert Trapula's home number, not the number that Benny had left.

After two rings, a pleasant sounding woman, with a very strong Italian accent, responded, "The Trapula residence. How may I help you?"

"My name is Ranger Manoso, owner of Rangemen Security. I'd like to speak to Robert Trapula, please. I'm returning his call."

"Certainly, Mr. Manoso. I will see if Mr. Trapula is available."

As I waited, I was treated to very subdued elevator music. A few minutes later, I heard Robert's voice.

"Well, Mr. Manoso. I have to admit, you certainly know how to pique a man's curiosity."

"Excuse me?"

"Telling my housekeeper that you were returning my call when you know damned well I never called you."

"Sir?"

"Tell you what Manoso, let's pretend that this phone call never happened, shall we? I'm a very busy man and I don't have time to …"

Time to take the bull by the horns. Strike when the iron is hot, as they say.

"Pardon me Mr. Trapula, I don't mean to contradict you but I received a message that you called me just after 1 pm this afternoon. At least it was someone presenting himself as Bobby Trapula. He said you were looking to replace your current security systems in your home and summer place, with one of ours. You asked to make an appointment to come to the office here and meet with me personally as soon as possible and that you wanted to look around to see how we monitored our clients." I continued quickly. "I'll be free at 4 this afternoon if that's soon enough for you. I can also arrange for a tour of our facility, as you requested. Will four o'clock fit into your schedule, Mr. Trapula?"

"I never called you, Manoso. Why would I? I have a state of the art system installed by the Sebring Company."

"Hmm. That is strange. I have a record in my system that tells me that a B. Trapula called my main number from cell number …" I hesitated before I read off his son's number. "My system was showing me a different number than the number I dialed. When I tried it, it rang several times then disconnected so I got your home number from the internet." I read the cell number to him. "Well, Mr. Trapula. It looks like someone is running a scam with you as the scapegoat."

"Indeed it does. I assure you, the guilty party will be dealt with. I don't appreciate being played for a fool."

"I apologize for bothering you; however, if you ever change your mind, and want to talk to us about a new system, you now have my personal number. Good day, Mr. Trapula."

"Good Bye, Mr. Manoso."

Tank was chuckling, Bobby was shaking his head and Les, well, Les was laughing hysterically.

"You're unbelievable, boss." Tank said.

"Seed's planted. Let's see what grows." I said.

After the call, I knew for certain that Robert was not behind the call, that it was Benny and so did his father. Somehow the kid and his buffoons must have figured out that Connie was probably still at Rangemen. That would not change. My building was secure, I was confident of it but I would have to tell more of my staff that Connie was there so that they would all be more vigilant. The garage door that normally remained open during the day, although gated, would be shut until further notice.

Hector set up a computer program that would ping his own phone every time Benny made or received a call. It would also show his location at all times. If he had his phone on him, Hector could track him.

Bring it on you little motherfucker. I've got your number now.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I had begun reviewing the first draft of the security system contract for a new client I recently visited when my cell phone dinged. Stephanie again. 'I think we should talk.'

'I think we should talk,' she said. About what?

Okay, Papi. Here goes nothing. I punched in her number. Stephanie picked up on the second ring.

"Yo." She said as I normally would.

"Yo yourself. What's up?"

"Nothing special. Just wanted to hear your voice."

"Okay, you've heard it. Now what?"

"Ranger. Don't be so grumpy."

I had to take a breath before I replied.

"Okay. I'll try again. How are you, Stephanie?"

"See? Was that so difficult? I'm all right. How are you?"

"Great. Are we done here?"

"Come on, Ranger. Jeez, Louise. I just wanted to say hi and see how you were doing."

"Like I said, I'm great. Wonderful. Fucking terrific."

"Well, this is going well." She whined. "I didn't call you so you could scream at me."

I began to pace.

"What do you want, Stephanie? What the fuck do you want from me?" I raised my voice. No one could piss me off the way Stephanie Plum could. "The woman I love more than anyone else in the world tells me to take a walk for another man and then expects me to be all cheery and happy like nothing happened? Well, I'm not. I'm fucking miserable." I took a breath to cool myself down. "I miss you every minute of every day. I can't stop thinking about you. There. Does that make you happy? We were friends for Christ's sake. Best friends. At least that was my impression." I ran my fingers through my hair. The burning sting of what I'd felt that morning, all of the pain I'd packed up and carted away, came rushing back with a vengeance I could barely contain. "What do you want? Why did you call?"

"I miss you." She began to cry. "I miss you so much. I'm sorry."

"Joe not stepping up to the plate?" I asked with a good dose of bitterness.

"He's never here. He's constantly training or studying or meeting with other new recruits. I'm always alone. I wanted someone to talk to. I wanted to talk to you."

Was she being sincere? Was she pouring her soul out to me? Was she going to stab me in the heart again? Dammit, I was so weak.

"I'm sorry. I lost my temper."

"I suppose you have a right to be angry with me."

There was a moment of pause. Both of us treading on new ground. I tried a more neutral route, taking a different path.

"How's the weather in DC?"

"It's nice most days. Sunny and breezy. I like it."

"Have you been able to find a job yet?"

"Well, I applied for a bonding agent position but I'm not licensed plus I can't do that kind of work here because of Joe. With my limited job experience and education, looks like all I qualify for is grocery store checkout clerk, Wal-Mart greeter or waitress."

"That sucks."

"It sure does." She hesitated for a second. Instinctively I knew that she had more to say. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"And what favor would that be, Babe?"

"Well, speaking of jobs, I know that you know people here. I wondered if you could give someone a call to help me get a job."

"You're asking me to call in a mark so you can get a job?"

"Yeah. It's no big deal. Just make a few phone calls."

A job! She wanted me to find her a fucking job. Un-fucking-believable.

"I see. Is that why you really called, Stephanie? Tell me the truth."

"I just thought that … Why are you making such a stink about this?"

"I'm not."

"Well, will you do it for me?"

"Can't Joe do something for you?"

"No. He's too busy."

"Oh. And I'm not."

"Really Ranger. You're making a big deal out of nothing. I just asked you for a simple favor. If you can't be bothered to help me out, just say so."

Biting my tongue. I considered disconnecting her but instead, I said, "I'll see what I can do."

I heard Joe's voice in the background. "Who are you talking to?"

"I gotta go." She said and the line went dead. I looked at my phone. That was it, all she wrote, _el fin_. The end. Cut off at the knees again thanks to that asshole, Morelli. Why in hell had I called her? Why didn't I just ignore her texts? Then I wondered if she would call back, and when.

By the time the contract I had been working on was finished, it was nearly 8 pm so I headed upstairs, exhausted and a little bit humiliated. I had been infuriated with Stephanie initially but I let my guard down allowing her to get the better of me only to take advantage of me yet again.

Connie was sitting at the breakfast bar, reading the newspaper on her laptop. She smiled when she saw me.

"Hey. Are you finally done for the day?"

"I hope so.' I dropped my keys in the silver dish on the table beside the door then headed for the gun safe in my closet to unload my weapons. "I'm beat."

"Hungry too, I bet?"

"Starving."

"I'll set the table." That was when I noticed that she had again made dinner and moved effortlessly, arms loaded, into the dining room. "Can you take the wine from the fridge and fill our glasses?"

"I have to take care of my guns first. I'll be right back. It'll only take me a minute."

"I'll get the wine then. Want to take your shower before we eat?" She called out to my back. "Dinner can wait a few more minutes."

"Not really. Be right back."

With my guns safely locked away, I returned to the kitchen to find Connie with a glass of Chablis in her hand for me.

She tapped my glass. "One more day." Then she looked at me with concern. She touched my cheek. "You look terrible. Do you feel okay?"

"I'm fine. Tough day."

I did not intend to tell her about the Trapula phone calls seeing no reason to scare her.

"Want to talk about it?"

I waved us toward the dining room.

The table was set for two with placemats while cloth napkins held the sleeping silverware beside our plates. Nestled between two lit candles, were fresh flowers poking out of a vase that had belonged to my grandmother.

As I shook out my napkin then rested it on my lap, I thanked Connie for the flowers and the candles then again for setting the table and making dinner.

"You don't have to wait for me. I'm used to eating alone."

"So am I and I hate it. I don't mind waiting for you. Really. We get to talk. It's nice."

The grilled tuna was just one second from passing pink, the fresh asparagus spears with almond slivers still had their snap, and the brown rice was a perfect consistency somewhere between sticky and fluffy. I detected a hint of basil.

"This is delicious. Has anyone ever told you that you're a great cook?"

"A few people." She smiled at my compliment. "Ella went shopping for me today. She's terrific. I like her. She said that Stephanie calls her Saint Ella. I can see why." I hoped she had not seen the sneer I felt tugging at my lip. If she did, she ignored it. "Tell me about your day. Busy, I gather?"

"I worked on a new client's contract. It's a pain but well worth the effort. It's our bread and butter. It's what pays the bills and salaries. The security details buy the balloons."

"Balloons. That's cute. What's the problem?"

I took a sip of wine then dabbed at my lips.

"There is a lot of repetition but the wording has to be exact for each client for legal reasons. If not, the client can come back and take action against us if they have a breach, claiming we were negligent or that we didn't comply with their wishes, we failed to honor the contract. That plus I can't always read my own writing." I snickered. "I try to remember what we discussed. Not just the words but the intent behind them."

"Can't you copy and paste someone else's contract then adjust it to suit the new client?"

"Yes I could but ..."

"But what?"

"The contracts aren't digital yet. They're still hand typed each time."

"You're kidding, right?"

Connie offered me a breadbasket with crisp warm triangles of pita bread.

"Unfortunately not."

"Would you like me to help you with that?"

"Connie. You have enough to do."

"Really? Look, it would be a big project the first time around but after that," she smacked her hands together. "Bada bing. Done."

Hearing that term again made me chuckle. Maybe because I was so tired.

"Did you just say 'bada bing'?"

"Yeah." She dragged the word out.

"Your uncle said that to me when he called about helping you. I didn't think people really used that phrase anymore."

"Yeah, well. What can I say? He's family."

What else _was_ there to say? I gave her a pass then continued.

"Another problem is that as thorough as we try to be, we always forget to ask something. It's frustrating and time-consuming. We need something more. A master form maybe. I just don't have the time or mindset to do that."

"Well, if you let me use the current contracts as a base, I'm sure that I can find a pattern. I could make up a worksheet of questions to ask certain types of clients that could be incorporated into the master contract."

"There are hundreds of contracts. It would take you a lifetime."

"All I have to do it scan the contracts, convert them to PDFs, and then turn them into word documents. It's not going to be a problem." I could see her wheels turning. "Once that's done, I could bullet the important points so they wouldn't be missed, and then you'd streamline it before the final draft is signed. You could take it to the client on your laptop and tweak it as needed, print it, then bada … Sorry."

That brought a little levity to the conversation.

"I like that. Work with Hector. I think a digital schematic that we can manipulate would be of help too."

"I'll get right on it first thing in the morning."

As we picked up the dishes and filled the dishwasher, Connie asked, "Anything else get your goat today?"

I was not sure that talking to her about my conversation with Stephanie was a good idea. She was Stephanie's friend.

"Not really."

"Have you spoken to Stephanie yet?"

"How did you know?"

"Les dropped off some searches for me. He said he heard you yelling at someone on the phone in your office. We just assumed it was Stephanie. She knows how to push sensitive buttons. Plus you just admitted it." As she set the Chablis on the coffee table then dropped into the chair beside the fireplace, she tapped her cheek. "That and the little tremble you had going on earlier."

"Busted."

"I gather your conversation didn't go well."

"No it didn't. Not at first anyway. Things settled down after a few minutes." I knew Connie had seen my fingers twitch trying to avoid clenching my fist.

"How is she?"

"Okay, I guess. Bored. We didn't really talk long." Avoiding Connie's gaze, I tilted my head back, resting it against the wall behind my chair.

"And? What's the verdict? Is she coming home?"

"She didn't say. We were just beginning to talk. You know, really talk, and possibly resolve some issues, then Joe walked in."

"Was he upset or angry that she was talking to you?"

"Don't know. Line went dead. I guess she didn't want him to know she was talking to me." I let the conversation breathe then added, "She asked me to help her find a job."

"So she _is_ coming back?"

"Not here. In DC. I know people. She asked me to make a few phone calls."

"Are you going to do that?"

I shrugged. "Maybe."

"If you do, she definitely won't come back. You know that right? Is that what you really want?"

Was that what I really wanted?


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

A few days later, as I was sitting at my desk, reviewing the work that Connie had done to streamline the contract process, I received a call from my father.

"Papi."

Without a hello, he began, "I can not take it any longer. Can I come to visit you? Just for a few days. Your sisters and brother and all of those grandchildren… I know they mean well but I need a change of scenery. I can come, _no_?"

"Of course, Papi. You know that you're welcome anytime. Would you like me to come to get you?" Spinning the watch on my wrist, I said, "I could leave here in about an hour."

"No. No. I am going to drive. I need to continue driving. I will take my time."

"Do you still have the cell phone that I got for you?"

" _Si_. It is in my pocket." In my mind, I could see him pat the shirt pocket on chest.

"Call me if you get lost and I'll come to get you."

"I remember the way plus I got a map from the gas station convenience store and I found the directions that you had given to your mother. I will be fine."

"See you soon, Papi."

Tank and Bobby were headed for the lunchroom across the hallway so I followed them in.

"Papi just called. He's on his way over. I guess my sibs got to be too much for him."

Bobby pulled a sandwich from the bin in the refrigerator and a bottle of iced tea. Tank was already seated beside Les.

"Where is he going to sleep?" He asked. "What about, you know who?"

"He and my mother always stayed with Ella and Luis in their spare room. I should call her."

Just as I pulled out my phone, Ella walked in with Scott and Hal, carrying grocery bags. Once she had thanked them, they returned to their posts. I walked over to her and took a water bottle from the box on the counter.

"May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course, dear. What can I do for you?"

"Papi just called. He's on his way. Can he stay with you and Luis?"

"Already taken care of. He must have called me just before he spoke to you." She smiled, took the warm water bottle from my hand and handed me a cold iced tea. "His room is all ready for him. Have you thought about dinner plans? What would you like me to make for him?"

I knew she was checking to see how I wanted to handle Connie's presence.

"You know what he likes as well as anyone."

My father arrived about two hours after he had called.

"Ranger," Les said. It was his turn at the main desk. "Your dad is here. Should I have someone take him upstairs, or will you be coming down for him? He has a few boxes that he shouldn't be carrying alone. They look pretty heavy."

"I'm on my way."

Once I exited the elevator and reached the control room, I greeted my father with a hug then took the two boxes that were sitting beside him.

"Should you get someone to help you, Ricky?"

"I'm fine Papi. They aren't that heavy." They were not. "What have you got in here?" I thought of all of the frozen meals in his freezer. "You didn't bring food, did you? I have food here."

"No food. Your sisters, they are good girls but when it comes to cooking, they are not your mother." He chuckled as he dragged his small overnight bag behind him.

"So what's in the boxes?" I asked as I opened the apartment door.

"You will see."

Connie was sitting at her desk talking to Les. She had a definite 'deer in the headlight' look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry." She tried to apologize for not 'hiding' in her room.

"Connie, this is my father, Ricardo. Papi, this is Connie. She is the friend I told you about."

I placed the boxes on the floor by the breakfast bar as my father approached her with his hand outstretched.

"It is very nice to meet you, _querida_." He said as he brought her hand to his lips for a very gentleman-like kiss. "My son, he speaks of you often. I understand that you are a very good cook. I hope that in my short time here, you will cook for me, yes?"

"I would be happy to." Connie was still a little taken aback but my father had always been a charmer and he did not want to make Connie uncomfortable. "Your son has taught me how to make _rope vieja_ using his mother's recipe."

"Ah. _Mi favorite_. My favorite. I would like this very much. My son," he looked at me then back at Connie, "he is a very good cook. I am certain that if he taught you, it will be delicious. _Gracias_."

"Ella is making dinner for us tonight, Papi. _Caldo Gallegro."_

"Ah, Luis's favorite." To Connie, he said, "You will join us, yes?"

"Well, I… uh."

I turned toward Connie _. "_ It's a sort of pork stew, sausage, _chorizo_ , some tomatoes, white beans, and turnip. Very traditional. And very good."

"I have things to do here." She pointed to a pile of papers on her desk. "I don't want to intrude on a family dinner."

"Nonsense. You are here. A friend of my son. That makes you _familia_. Ricky, tell Ella to set the table for one more, eh?"

"No need Papi. Ella and I already discussed it. Connie is welcome." My father then asked to be excused and headed off toward the bathroom. It had been a long ride for him.

"Ranger. Thank you for including me but…"

"Connie. You want to tell an old man that you won't be his date for dinner."

"His date?"She chuckled.

"Not really. However, he would be very hurt if you didn't join us. Whatever you have to do, it can wait until tomorrow."

Connie was busily working on paying the monthly invoices while Papi and I carried the boxes he had brought over, then placed them on my bed.

"Papi. What is all of this?"

My father had begun spread out all of the things that had been neatly packed away in the boxes. I recognized most everything as my mother's personal belongings. Thinks she had cherished as long as I could remember.

"These are your mother's most prized possessions."

I had always assumed that these things would go to my sisters although I had hoped that she would save something for me. We had joked about it when I had gone to help my parents clean out their basement after hurricane Sandy in 2012. My men and I had made several trips to the landfill and the recycling center with damaged or destroyed items. My siblings had problems of their own, at the time.

"But why did you bring them here? Do you want me to store them for you because I have plenty of storage space? You know that."

"No. These things are for you, from your mother and I."

"What about the others?"

"Listen." My father was sitting on the edge of the bed when he reached out to touch my hand. "Your mother and I, we talked about this. This was her decision and I agreed."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Your brother and sisters, do things for us when we call them. However, we do for them too. We babysit the children. Your mother, she would cook for them also. We never complain. We love the children and you know that your mother, she loved to cook."

"I still don't understand."

"You, my son, you give and ask for nothing in return. Your mother and I want you to have these things that meant so much to her."

"But why now Papi?"

"Your mother, she wanted to give her things to her children. You are correct about this, but she also said that she did not want her personal things to be fought over."

"The girls. That's why you wanted to come here today with Mami's things. The girls have been fighting."

"Yes and no. They have not been fighting as much as they have been snooping." He chuckled then whispered. "Your mother, she was a very smart woman. She hid these boxes."

My father continued to remove items from the boxes, telling a tale for each trinket. Most things were junk, really, but my mother had apparently held them dear to her heart. If I was to venture a guess, I would have said that it was the memory of the item more than the piece itself that made these treasures her most prized possessions.

When he reached the bottom, he pulled out my mother's quilt; the one that I had seen hanging on the back of her chair after her funeral.

"Papi. This is Mom's quilt." He placed it reverently in my hands. "Don't you want to keep this?"

"You mother made this for you when Julie was born. Do you remember?" I detected a slight misting in his eyes. "She was not able to give it to her because … well."

Rachel, my ex-wife, had not allowed me or my family to participate in my daughter's life. She had refused the quilt and returned the gift, unopened.

He caressed the worn fabric gently as though it would shatter it if it was jarred.

"You mother's wish was that if you had more children, that you would wrap them in it."

All of the pieces reminded me of my youth: of times gone by. The red patches were from a favorite shirt, the plaid, were from an old wool jacket. There was dog-eared denim and cotton from faded pajamas. All mine. Each and every square and triangle had been hand-picked from my abandoned closet and drawers and hand-sewn with love and memories. So many memories. Even the backing was the careworn, hand-me-down, wool mantle I'd wrapped myself in on cold, drafty winter nights. Gratefully, I took the blanket. It smelled like my mother.

"Thank you, Papi. I will cherish this."

Thinking he was finished, as the boxes were empty, he reached for his overnight bag. "I have one more piece for you." After slowly unzipping then rummaging through his bag, he said, "Ah! Here it is."

He held, what looked like a wad of tissue, in his hands, brought it to his chest for a beat, kissed it then handed it to me, placing in my hand, folding my fingers around it.

"Papi. What is this?"

Still holding my hand he continued, "This was Abuela Rosa's. A gift from your Abulelo before they left Cuba. When I was to marry your mother, she gave it to me to give you your mother. Open it," he directed.

Carefully I unfolded the crinkly white paper to reveal a shiny gold ring, with a cloudy stone. It was the ring my mother still had on her finger when she died.

"Papi, I can't take this." I protested. I could hear my sisters fighting over the ring. My mother had told them it was a real and a very valuable diamond from Cuba. I knew better. I knew gemstones. It was a polished piece of glass, set in a gold-tone band of costume jewelry. The ring had no monetary value yet it was priceless.

"Your sisters," he began, "have been looking for this ring. They want to sell it. Your mother, she always wanted you to have it for your intended. She knew that only you would see its true worth."

"Thank you, Papi. I will guard it with my life. If I ever find the right woman to marry, I promise I will give it to her." Turning the ring in my hand, I then carried it to the gun safe in my dressing room.

Dinner was as expected. Ella's meal rivaled my mother's. My father and Luis talked shop throughout. They had worked together in the shoe factories by the canal until they closed and then they both moved on to janitorial jobs at the mall until their retirement. It was good to see him enjoying himself with friends.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Over time, I found that the longer Connie and I occupied the same living space, the more I enjoyed her company. She was smart, funny, caring and pulled her own weight. She continued to cook most of our meals, kept the apartment clean and picked up, did her own laundry and mine and much more. I began leaving for the office a little bit later and made a point of getting home earlier. Sharing lunch with her had become more routine than not. Ella would occasionally make dinner for us, to give Connie a break. Connie had said it was like going out to dinner.

We had gotten into a comfortable groove, doing everything a normal cohabitating couple would do. We would watch movies together, or just talk every evening, sharing much more of my personal life than I ever thought I would share with anyone. She passed on her grandmother and aunt's Italian recipes to me and I taught her how to cook some of my family's favorite dishes. Our music taste ran together: jazz, classical, some heavy metal, oldies, and surprisingly country. It ran the whole gamut. There were evenings when I would arrive home where Connie was singing and dancing to whatever music suited her at that moment, while she labored over the stove making dinner. I found myself mesmerized by her movements as I watched her from the doorway until my own dancing feet would not be quieted. I would take her by the hands or waist then finish the song with her. She had come to appreciate Latin music and became quite proficient at Salsa dancing. My preference. It was a comfortable existence. I was content for the first time in a very long time.

That was until Stephanie returned.

"Any idea what time you'll be home tonight? I'm planning a pot roast. I don't want it to dry out." Connie joked about the 'Burg' standard, as I headed back to my office after lunch.

"No idea. I'll let you know, Ms. Rizzoli." I laughed.

"Okay. See you later, then. Have a great afternoon."

"You too."

As I was heading down the metal stairs to the gun range. later that day, my cell vibrated. It was Stephanie. We had spoken a few times. Each time, we had cracked a little bit of the ice dam we had built between us but I still felt it was a chore, forced. Stephanie had changed yet I could not quite put my finger on what the problem might be. She may have still been angry that I had not been able to help secure employment for her.

"Hey, Babe."

"I just landed at the airport in Newark. Come pick me up."

"What?" I stopped and grabbed onto the railing to keep myself from tumbling down the stairs. "What are you doing here?"

"Joe and I had a major fight. I came home. Can you come and get me or not?"

"Yes. Yes. Of course, I can." I checked my watch. It was just before 2 pm. "I'll be there before four."

"Four? What the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Why didn't you call from DC?"

"I don't know. Didn't think of it. Can't you get here any sooner?"

"Babe. I'll be there as soon as I can. It's mid-day. There's going to be a lot of traffic."

"Fine. Whatever. See you at four."

Traffic had indeed been heavy, yet I arrived just before four and dialed Stephanie.

"I'm here. What terminal are you at?"

"American."

Checking the overhead signs, I headed toward American Airline arrivals and parked at the curb. Stephanie was talking to some guy when she noticed me. She waved at me then said goodbye to the man and shook his hand. I popped the trunk as she approached.

She was just a beautiful as I remembered if not a little thinner. Her unruly curls bounced with each step. Her jeans and sweater were tight, showing all of the curves that I had missed.

"Babe," I said in anticipation of a friendly hug and a smile. If I was lucky, I might even get a kiss. I would take what I could get.

"Finally." She mumbled as she dragged her bag toward the car so I could place it in the trunk.

As she buckled her seat belt, I checked my rearview mirror, and then pulled out into the line of traffic heading out of the airport.

"You're very quiet." She had not spoken one word to me from the time we had left the airport and hit the main road. "So, asking you if you've forgiven me for not being able to help you get a job is not on the table."

"No. I have not forgiven you. That was just mean and spiteful. Honestly, Ranger, I thought you were better than that."

"I tried."

"That's a lie." When I made an attempt to protest she said, "I don't want to hear your excuses. I just want something to eat. I'm starving. I haven't eaten since breakfast." She pointed at a pair of golden arches at the end of the off-ramp a few hundred feet on the right. "Stop there." She said.

I was not in the correct lane so I missed the exit.

"Dammit, Ranger. I told you to stop. I'm starving." Crossing her arms over her chest, I denoted a pout. "Have you gone deaf, too?"

"I missed the exit. So shoot me. Besides, I think we can do better than McDonald's."

"Whatever."

"Are you okay? You're a little cranky."

"Really? You think? You would be too if you had gotten up as early as I did, then had to sit on that stupid plane with that whining kid and wait two whole hours for your ride. Then, to top it off, you won't stop to get me anything to eat even after I begged you to."

"Steph, I'm sorry. I …"

She waved her hand and brushed me off.

"I should have known better than to call you for such a small favor. Just take me home."

I offered to stop at every place that sold food on the way back to Trenton, but Stephanie continued to play the martyr.

Once we exited the highway, into more familiar territory, I asked, "So where am I taking you, exactly?"

"Your place. Where else? I gave up my apartment."

Connie. I could not risk letting Stephanie see Connie and our living arrangements.

"Sorry. No can do."

Indignantly, she turned to face me. "And why the hell not?"

Think fast.

"I'm in the middle of … repainting. The place is a disaster. I've been staying with Les."

"Great. This is just great. Now, what am I supposed to do?"

"I'll take you to a hotel." I flipped my blinker and headed for the nearest place I could find.

A Ma and Pa motel called Shelly and Pete's came into view. It was not much but I knew from experience that it was clean and there was a diner within walking distance. I pulled into the parking lot.

"Well, isn't this classy?" She turned to look at me again. "Honestly Ranger? Is this the best you can do for me?"

"It's clean and there's an all-night diner down the road." I pointed toward the neon sign.

"Oh really? And how would you know all of this? You and Jeanne Ellen, your old flame, come here often? Do Shelly and Pete know you by name?" She slammed the car door shut then walked toward the check-in desk leaving me to get her bag. "Hurry up. I want to get checked in so I can eat. In case you forgot, I'm starving."

Stephanie signed the guest register then took the key as I placed my credit card back into my wallet. She walked toward her room while I fetched the car and her bag. I say fetched because I was beginning to feel more like a servant. An unappreciated servant, at that.

"What a dump." She mumbled once she opened the door. "If there are any cooties in here, I'm not staying." She added as she headed for the bathroom. "I gotta pee."

The curtains had been drawn open and filled the small room with a wash of golden rays of sunshine. The double bed cover was a standard issue brightly colored floral print on an off-white background that coordinated well with the mint green drapes and dark green carpeting that smelled like it had just been replaced. There were artificial flowers in a crystal vase and a small box of Lindt chocolates, made in Stratham, New Hampshire, as a welcome gift. The room smelled faintly of bleach, soap, fresh paint and dryer sheets. I ran my fingers across the top of a dust-free widescreen TV. A small placard placed near the phone invited the guest to enjoy complimentary Wi-Fi and satellite TV along with a menu from the nearby Willow Brook Diner where the guest was entitled to a discount.

Stephanie exited the bathroom, with her next demand. "Did you get anything for me to eat yet?"

I pointed to the box of chocolate.

"Do you want some chocolate?" I chuckled hoping to lighten the mood. All I got for my efforts was a nasty glare. It was not going well.

"Oh my God. You're being such an ass. Is it too much to ask you to get me something to eat?"

After a long breath, I said, "I was waiting to see if you would prefer to go to the diner or call for a delivery. I would imagine that we would get to eat faster if we ordered in advance then ate it there. What do you think?" I handed her the menu from the small table, noting the 'order ahead' statement.

"Oh." She flipped through the menu and apparently found something to her liking. "I guess I'll have a cheeseburger, fries, chocolate milkshake and a piece of apple pie with ice cream."

"I'll call it in then we can walk over there."

"Walk? You want me to walk?"

"Stephanie. It can't be more than a block."

"Fine. We'll do it your way. Whatever." She dragged her purse strap up her arm then settled it on her shoulder as she walked toward the door. "Come on. Let's go. I'm hungry."

I quickly completed the order, adding a grilled chicken sandwich, hold the bread, and a side salad for myself, along with an iced tea with lemon, no sugar. Our meals were still on the grill when we arrived, although we were seated immediately.

Stephanie ate while moaning as always. At first, it did nothing for me but as time passed, I became more – how can I put this? – intrigued? Once she had finished eating, she wiped her lips then said, "Thanks, Ranger. I really needed that."

"You're welcome." The waitress filled our water glasses then placed Stephanie's dessert in front of her.

"I'll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom." She said after she had finished her dessert and pushed the empty plate to the edge of the table.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and noted the time. There was no way I would be getting back home in time to have dinner with Connie so I texted her a courtesy message that I had been delayed at the client's house and to eat dinner without me.

Her response was a quick, 'Thanks for the text. See you when you get back. C."

I felt slightly guilty about lying to Connie but we were not a couple. Not really.

I slid my receipt into my pocket while waiting at the door for Stephanie. She had been in the bathroom for a long time. I had considered asking the waitress to check on her when she emerged with a smile on her lips. The first one I had seen all day.

"Babe, are you feeling alright?" I asked once she returned. Her face was flushed.

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"You've been to the bathroom twice in the last hour."

"Are you keeping track of how often I pee? Jeesh." She said.

That was when I smelled it.

I leaned forward and whispered, "Babe, have you been drinking?"

"What? Me? No. Why do you ask?" She said then slid a piece of gum into her mouth.

"I smell alcohol on your breath."

"Oh, that. There was a mouthwash thingy in the bathroom. A basket with these tiny bottles. I tried one. I really like it. I'll have to get some."

We returned to the motel. The neon sign blinked with a spasmodic cadence due to one strategically placed burned out bulb.

Unexpectedly, she said, "When can I get a car? I want an Explorer. The Expedition is too big for me unless you want me to take the Porsche." She smiled hopefully.

"You need a car?"

"Yeah. How else and I supposed to get around?"

"You want me to get you a car?"

"Yeah. Is that a problem, Mr. Cheapskate?"

"I'll see what I can do."

As we approached her room, I had had my fill of Stephanie's greedy, demanding, and ungrateful attitude. I had tried to be friendly, patient and giving but my cup had overfilled and spilled all over my face. I wanted to leave. Connie would still be up. I wondered what she was doing: what she was wearing.

"I should go," I said as Stephanie unlocked her door.

"What's the rush? Got a hot date? You know you don't have to go if you don't want to." She said then slid her hands up my chest entwining her fingers behind my neck. "I promise I won't bite," next she whispered in my ear, "unless you want me to." Nipping at my earlobe, warm moist lips touched my cheek then grazed my jawline and chin. Just as her mouth rested on mine she added, "Do you want me to bite you, Ranger?" She sunk her teeth into my lip. "Because I can do that." Rubbing herself against me, satisfied with my arousal, she then rested her hand on me and smiled knowingly running a finger up and down my length. "I can do anything you want me to do." I gulped as she slid a finger under my belt, tickling what she had found.

Okay. I have to admit that she had been a bitch. A really boorish, selfish, hotter than hell, sexy bitch. Being particularly embarrassed, I must confess that I am also an extremely weak-minded man when it comes to carnal pleasure and it had been a very long time since I had had sex with anyone but myself. Before I knew it, her tongue was down my throat and the motel room door had completely shut behind us.

I backed her into the credenza and kissed her hungrily while I removed my jacket. She tugged my shirt out of my pants then unzipped them. Swinging her around, I let my pants fall to the floor as Stephanie wrapped her legs around my waist then pulled her top over her head. I had nearly lost my balance, hopping on one foot, as I tried to remove my boots so I knocked the vase and box of chocolates onto the floor in the process. Her flailing foot hooked into the back of the desk chair sending it crashing to the floor. When she removed her bra, she lobbed it into the air where it draped itself over the top of the TV. Once I had managed to step out of my pants, I threw Stephanie onto the bed, causing the box springs to scream and the bed frame to crack from the force of our combined weight. Climbing on top of her on the now tilted bed, we kissed, bit and sucked each other, nearly drawing blood.

"Fuck me. Fuck me now, Ranger. NOW!" She shouted as demanding as she had been earlier. Ripping off her pants, I wasted no time, barely able to secure a condom, and then plunged deep inside of her until she screamed my name.

Our lovemaking was primal, frenzied, feral and much rougher than Stephanie had formerly liked and yes, she did things to me that I liked. A lot. And I did things to her that her previous inhibitions would never have allowed. To say that we had fucked each other's brains out would have been an understatement.

Stephanie was cradled in my encouraged arms, yet fast asleep when her phone beeped a familiar tune. Joe was calling her. Probably to apologize?

I reached behind me, taking the phone in my hands and listened to his message. 'Did you get home okay? I'll be leaving as soon as my damned meeting is over. Sorry I couldn't leave with you. My flight is still on schedule so I should be there in a few hours. You got a car so you can pick me up at the Trenton airport in the morning, right? If you can't, let me know where you're staying and I'll catch a cab. Mom said that the house is all packed up, except for our personal stuff. We can take care of that in the morning before the movers arrive. They should be there by noon. Miss you. Can't wait to see you. Love you, Cupcake.'

My blood began to boil. Steam escaped from my ears. She had used me again, and like the lovesick fool I was, I let her. I wanted to text Joe back that 'no', she could not pick him up because she was recuperating after having had amazing sex with me, but I did not. I did do something just as devious, though. Something that was very unlike me. I simply deleted the message. While I was in the process, I remembered seeing Stephanie set her phone alarm to ring at some point so I turned it off then slid the phone under the bed so that she would not hear it the next time it rang. I showered before I left, wanting desperately to wash away the smell of her sex. Stephanie was still asleep when I shut the door behind me then drove home with my tail between my legs.

I waved at Les and Hal in the control room as I passed then hoofed it up the seven flights of stairs feeling as if I needed to be bitch slapped for what I had done.

Once in my apartment, I showered again, scrubbing raw, any area that Stephanie may have touched.

In my kitchen, I was about to get myself a beer when I noticed that my house phone light was blinking. I had several messages, actually. The first one was from Les. The second was from Bobby and another was from Hector. They were all the same. 'He's officially FTA.'

Who the hell is FTA? I wondered. Tank's message was much clearer.

'Where have you been? Trapula missed his court date. Connie knows. She's a mess.'

Glancing over at Connie's door I found it closed with no light seeping beneath it. I guessed she had managed to fall asleep. I was immediately racked with remorse. That must have been why she had been in such a state all day. Why she had made a special dinner, in hopes of celebrating Trapula's incarceration and her freedom. I should have been there for her instead of with Stephanie. I hoped she could forgive me. Forgive and allow, my father had said. I doubt that was what he had in mind.

I slid under my comforter and tried to sleep, but tossed and turned reliving my afternoon and evening, hoping desperately that someone would kick my sorry ass, instead.

The following morning, I tried to apologize to Connie for abandoning her. She brushed me off as though it was no big deal. As she served breakfast, she smiled and we chatted then went off to work just like any other day. Connie was dressed in crisply pressed dark pantsuit, with brightly colored silk top and heels, and me in my Rangemen uniform and boots.

While drafting a list of statements I felt were important to have Connie add the master contract she was working on, my cell beeped. I was happy that I was alone when I listened to her message because I began to laugh hysterically.

"You son of a bitch. You bastard. Have you lost your fucking mind? You deleted Joe's message and turned off my alarm, then hid my phone. What the hell is wrong with you? Oh and, I'm looking out the window from this shithole and I don't see the car that you promised. "

I heard a loud knock at her door. I thought it might have been Joe.

"When did you become so selfish?" She said to me. "What do you want?" She asked the person who had knocked.

She began speaking to that person with a raised voice. The motel owner, I assumed. It was difficult to understand what they were saying exactly but apparently, he had had complaints about the noise we had made the previous evening. He became quite angry when he saw the damages. Stephanie protested, playing dumb. I knew there would not be a problem with the costs. I had already given him Stephanie and Joe's credit card to pay for the room in lieu of my own. Joe would see the charges on their next bill. Let her talk her way out of that mess. I can be quite Machiavellian when provoked.

"Don't you ever call me again. I hate you, Ranger," she finished, then hung up.

I hoped I could manage to wipe the smirk off my mug before I had to face anyone, especially Connie. I was definitely going to hell for what I had done, but it would be well worth the price of admission.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Weeks passed. There had been no more sightings of Benny Trapula since the day of his court date. We had exhausted all of our resources trying to find him. We had even gone so far as to camp out near the family compound and the summer home. His father was very well connected in the mob world and had ties to several law enforcement agencies such as homeland security. The word was that he might have shipped his kid out of the country.

Things had changed. Connie had changed. Whereas we would normally enjoy our alone time with each other, we began having very little interaction at all and she seldom spoke to me. She always seemed to have something else to do in her suite or chose to go to bed early with a headache. Gone was the daily business attire that she had prided herself with, replaced by worn sweats and t-shirts and battered sneakers. Initially, I thought she might have found out about my tryst with Stephanie but that turned out not to be the case. She had been encouraging me to contact her and patch things up.

Connie had also gone silent with all of my men that she had worked with on a daily basis. We continued to eat together, though she only picked at her food and ate very little. Her weight loss was dramatic. Anxious lines were etched deeply on her face. The situation appeared bleak. Connie was beyond disenchanted. Day by day, she became more and more despondent. I was quite concerned for her welfare.

Les had suggested a change of scenery so he, Bobby, Tank, and Hector stopped by my apartment after dinner for a few beers and a little poker one night. At first, it seemed to work. She even set out a platter of amazing poker snacks. Then she said she was tired and shuffled off to bed.

"Man, she's so down on herself," Bobby said as he dealt the next hand.

"Wouldn't you be?" I said.

"I've never seen her like that. How is she when you're alone?" Les queried.

"The same. I don't know what to do for her." I tapped the table and Bobby placed another card in front of me.

"Not much you can do until that little motherfucker is found." Tank said as he downed the last of his beer and popped open another.

By the end of the night, I had formulated a plan in my mind and shared my thoughts with the guys as we filled the trashcan with our empties.

"Do you think it'll work?" Les asked.

"Why not? Isn't that what we normally do when we're trying to suck scum out of the woodwork?"

We had all agreed that we should stage a distraction, as we called it. Hector would spread the word that Connie was back since Benny had skipped town and she was on the hunt for a man again. We would parade her around in hopes that he would return and we could nab him.

"Do you think she'll agree?"

"If not, we'll find someone who will," Bobby said.

"You know it could be dangerous. She could get hurt." Tank said while sliding his arms into the sleeves of his jacket.

"Steph would do it," Les added.

"No. Absolutely not." I wanted to say. Instead, I said, "That would be difficult from DC".

I had not heard from Stephanie since she had made such a fool out of me and that was the way I liked it. Had she gone back to DC with Joe as planned? I did not know, nor did I care.

The following morning, I was awakened by an unfamiliar sound in the apartment. Although I had gotten used to having another person in my home on a regular basis, it was unlike Connie to get up during the night and roam around. My bedside alarm clock said it was just after 3 am. I opened my bedroom door and immediately sensed her presence although I could not see her.

"Connie?"

I got no reply but the nightlight was still on over the stove causing her form to reflect against the dining room window's mirrored glass, like an apparition.

"Connie?" I repeated.

"Sorry. Did I wake you making the coffee?" Without turning, she stretched an arm behind her and pointed toward the kitchen. "It should be ready by now." She then brought her hand to her face to wipe tears from her eyes.

Wearing only the gym shorts that I had grabbed from the foot of my bed, I approached her.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

She refused to turn to look at me but her reflection in the window showed me a very unhappy woman with blotchy skin and swollen eyes. Taking a tissue from the pocket of her bathrobe, she dabbed at her nose.

"Fine. I'm fine. I couldn't sleep. Must have eaten something that disagreed with me." As she began to walk away, I rested my hand on her shoulder.

"Connie. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing. It's just an upset stomach."

"Hey. Don't lie to me." She shrugged her shoulder from my hand. "We're friends, remember?"

"You should go back to bed." She pretended to yawn. "See you in the morning."

"Connie. Stop." Taking a step toward her, I turned her to face me. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her bottom lip began to quiver. "Please. Talk to me."

She raised her head as she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe and took a breath.

"I can't take it anymore. I've tried to be strong and I know the guys were trying to help tonight but … I just want this to be over with. To be Connie Rizzoli again. I want my life back. I want to go home."

"Connie, you can't do that until we find Benny. It isn't safe yet."

Angry she decried, "Then why haven't you found him? How hard have you been looking?"

"Connie. Listen …" I said, wondering if telling her about the plan we had devised was a good idea at that hour.

After a sniffle, she said, "I'm sorry Ranger. I shouldn't have raised my voice at you. I'm just so angry." She turned to face the window again pressing the palms of her hands over her eyes as though doing so would remove her pain. "You've all been so good to me and I know you're doing everything you can, it's just that … I miss my family, my friends, hell I even miss Vinnie." She laughed weakly. The only family contact she had had was an occasional call with her uncle Ray that I had arranged through Ella.

Connie was a people person and denying her access to her friends and family was tantamount to depriving her of oxygen. She was being punished for what Benny Trapula had done to her while he continued to walk around free as a bird. Maybe Ray was right; she should have blown his fucking head off instead of his foot.

I had to find the right time to tell her about our plan. Finding him would mean a big payday for Rangemen so I needed to approach her carefully about what we had discussed. I did not want her to think that Rangemen was willing to put her life at risk for the money or that this was her only option, forcing her to jump into the thick of things without thinking it through, although it was beginning to look like it might be the only alternative.

"I'm sure you're getting tired of having me invade your space."

"You're not invading my space. I invited you here knowing full well that you'd be here for a while."

"Yes, but it seems like it's been forever and now that sonofabitch has gone FTA."

I coaxed her over to the breakfast bar where I poured two cups of coffee.

Pulling another tissue from her pocket, she dabbed at her eyes then her nose.

"I haven't even seen the sun since I got here. The only way I know what time it is is to look at the clock. Do you know how many times I check that damned clock every day? Every hour?"

I suddenly had an idea. A temporary fix that would hopefully give me the opportunity I needed to discuss the distraction with her.

Whenever I returned from a mission, I would lock myself in my apartment to decompress. There was only one place where I could go to help keep me sane until I was ready to face the world again.

"Get dressed," I said to her as I pulled her from the barstool. "Make sure you have something warm to wear and shoes."

"Are you kidding? It's just after three o'clock in the morning. What are you planning?"

"Just do it. I'll be right back."

I, in turn, returned to my bedroom and dressed in a pair of jeans, sweatshirt and slid into an old pair of Doc's. Once back in the kitchen, I sought out, then filled a thermos with hot coffee. As I was about to knock on Connie's door, she opened it and emerged dressed in jeans, a 50s button down sweater and a pair of Birkenstocks.

"Ready?"

"Where are we going exactly?" She asked with a good amount of hesitancy.

"You'll see. Just follow me." She appeared doubtful as I reached for her hand. "Come on. Trust me?"

Glancing at the thermos in my hand, she raised her eyebrows. When I grabbed a blanket from the closet beside the front door, she looked like she was about to make a run for it.

"Where are we going? Tell me now or I'm not moving from this spot."

"Connie. It's a surprise."

"If you think I'm going for another joy ride in the trunk of that matchbox you call a car, you're out of your mind." She said with a slight tug on her lip.

"Shut your eyes."

"Okay. Now I know you've lost it." She turned to go back to her room but I took hold of her wrist.

"Trust me, my dear. You're gonna love it."

She placed her hand over her eyes then said, "If I fall, I'm going to kill you, Manoso."

"You will not fall, Rizzoli." Once through the door, we reached the stairs. "Step up." I encouraged. She lifted her foot about a foot into the air, letting it feel around like a tentacle.

"Connie. You're not climbing a mountain. It's just a few steps."

By the time she got the hang of it, we were at the top of the stairs.

"Hold onto my pants for a second for balance." I had imagined that she would grab my shirt but she hit home plate immediately, giggled, apologized, and then slid a finger through my belt loop, with a minimum amount of guidance. I unlocked the door after tapping the code.

The cool night air hit her immediately.

"Where are we?" She was finally smiling again.

"Eyes still shut?"

"Yes."

"Okay. There is a lip you have to step over. One good goose step should do it."

She hit my arm, mumbled an Italian curse then stood beside me.

"Are we outside? Please tell me we're outside."

"Yes. You can open your eyes now."

As Connie oriented herself with her surroundings, I dropped the coverlet on the ground, the roof actually, and set the coffee container beside it.

"Oh my God! Ranger, the view from up here is breathtaking."

She inched forward letting the atmosphere envelop her, gulping in lungful after lungful of fresh air. The dark sky appeared to twinkle just for her despite the New York City smog that normally settled over New Jersey, as the sun began to think about rising in the east.

She looped her arm in mine as we walked toward the edge of the building then leaned her head on my shoulder. From that height, nearly eighty feet up, the city sounds were just about hushed. Red and white car lights from early morning commuters, streaked squiggly lines on the roadways below, resembling ribbons flapping in the breeze. Together we pointed out different sights: the shopping mall, New York City perhaps, and the general area of her home. She insisted that she could see a yacht out on the Atlantic Ocean with lots of passengers drinking, dancing, and generally having a great time while heading toward Europe. Whether she did or did not see anything, it did not matter. She was happy. I had found a way to make her relax if only for a few moments. The night air had cooled as the sun rose, so I pulled out a lawn chair from the storage shed that also housed the heating and air-conditioning systems. We sat comfortably, with her back to my front and cuddled under the blanket, sipping hot coffee, while watching the sunrise.

Connie carried the thermos and I carried my mother's quilt as we descended the stairs. She placed the thermos on the kitchen counter while I folded the quilt and returned it to its original home.

"Feeling better?" I asked again.

"Much better. Thank you, Ranger. Thank you so much."

I decided it was time to break the news about the distraction. She took it like the trooper that she was, anxious to get her life back on track.

"You mean like Stephanie would do for you?"

"Exactly. She would get dressed up according to the desires of the intended victim. Lure him into a false state of security and we'd nab him."

"Is it dangerous? Not that I care really because I want this over."

"I won't lie to you. Stephanie was injured on occasion, though never seriously. Criminals are not rational people when they're cornered like an animal. We'll take every precaution to keep you as safe as possible."

"How many of your guys will be there with me?"

"I normally have four or five men, depending on the venue. One man will be posted at each exit, one or two inside with you, maybe as a bartender or date, and a minimum of two men to take him down."

"Will you be there?"

"Of course. I want to see this asshole in handcuffs as much as you do. We just have to find out where he frequents."

"That's easy enough."

As we approached the breakfast bar where she had left her laptop to charge, she opened the dating site she had used, then we perused the info Ben Roberts had provided to her. He liked heavy metal music and his favorite place to hang with his _amici_ , friends, was a dive called _Pacerella_ , or Catwalk located on the edge of Stark Street in drug town. It was rumored that his father would occasionally do business with the owner in the backroom.

 _Pacerella's_ website boasted of live heavy metal music on the weekends and a local DJ during the week. Imported beers were their specialty along with the best Margaritas outside of New York City and sizzling buffalo wings. They also had pole dancing and private rooms in the back but that was not listed on their website. Imagine that?

"This is where he wanted us to meet. I chose a more open place. The food court at the mall."

"In hindsight, you made the right choice," I said as I shut the laptop.

"When can we do this?"

"It may take a few visits, but the sooner we get started, the sooner this will all be over."

"Thank you, Ranger. Thank you so much for doing this for me. I don't know how to show you my appreciation."

She wrapped her arms around my neck for what she intended to be a friendly thank you kiss to my cheek. Things turned awkward as they do in situations like that. We turned our heads from side to side, trying to get the best angle when our lips touched for a split second. Her full lips were warm and moist, sending a shockwave of delight throughout my system. It was a feeling I had fought with.

Connie pulled back. Shock evident on her face. I bit my lip, cleared my throat, then turned my head.

"I, uh … am heading to the gym."

"Yeah." She added as she wiped her hands on her thighs. "I'm going to take a shower."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

When I returned, Connie was dressed for the day and had breakfast on the counter. Fresh coffee had brewed, filling the apartment with a homey aroma.

"Hey," I said when I entered the apartment.

"Hey." She replied as I approached her.

"I talked to Tank. We'd like to get started on our plan tonight if that's okay with you." I uttered as she handed me a cup of coffee; dark with a splash of milk, exactly the way I had it every morning.

"Yeah. Sure. Okay. Whatever, but first, we need to talk." She said resolutely.

Taking one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar, she encouraged me to take the other with a few taps of her hand.

"Okay." I sipped my coffee then set the cup on the bar.

"This is hard for me to say, so please, just listen. Okay?"

Taking a breath as she lifted her head, letting tears stream down her cheeks, she continued.

"About … earlier. It was wrong." A large tear fell from her eye, then another. Her lower lip quivered making it difficult for her to continue. She took another breath. "It can't happen again. It was a mistake."

"Connie …"

"Please. This will soon all be in the past. After you catch Benny, and I'm out of your hair, you'll go on with your life and I'll go on with mine."

"Connie. It was just a kiss. It doesn't have to mean anything." I said aloud, but thought, "unless you want it to."

"Ranger," she continued as though I had not spoken, "believe me, in a few days, you'll regret this too." She turned her head refusing to look at me any longer, her tears increasing.

"Listen to me."

"No, don't say any more. Please." Pulling her hands from my attempted grasp, she tucked them under her arms, stood and began walking towards her room. "I have to get to work. It's going to be a short work day then I have to plan what I'm going to wear tonight."

"Listen to me," I said using my command voice. The voice that caused grown men to cry. She stopped and I lowered my voice. "I'm sorry for shouting at you. Listen to me, please."

"Ranger. There is nothing more to say. You need to make it right with Stephanie and I… well. I need to find myself a nice Italian guy who wants a family and a dog and is willing to remodel my grandmother's house with me. We'll date, get engaged, move in together, have a big Italian wedding and go to Italy on our honeymoon, then come home and have a bunch of kids." Moving further away from me, she continued, "when this is all over, it will be no more than just a faint memory and I'll realize my dream of finding that special someone." She waited for a second then said. "You're a wonderful person, Ranger. You're thoughtful, generous, caring, and I love you with all my heart, but Ranger, in the end, you're just not that guy, and I'm not the right woman for you. We both know that."

"I could be."

"No. I don't want you to change for me, Ranger. You are who you are." Taking another breath as she headed toward her work area, she added, "Call Stephanie. Today. Make it right between you. Joe is an ass. She'll see that eventually. You just have to keep after her. You want the same things. You're perfect for each other. Everybody knows that."

Connie had returned to her desk, turned her computer on, and then began typing, leaving me dumbfounded and tongue-tied.

The printer sprung to life. She then punched in each employee's cell number, sending them her weekly reminder text that payroll was due. 'Remember to forward your hours before noon today to assure that your paychecks are correct.' After my own phone pinged, as though nothing had happened between us, nonchalantly she stated, "It's Friday. You have your weekly team leader meeting at eight in the conference room." Glancing at the time on her computer, "You should have just enough time for a shower." She then checked her phone briefly. "Ella has coffee, muffins and a fruit tray ready for you. Is there anything else that you need at the moment?"

"No. Not at the moment." I mumbled as I stood. "I'm headed for the shower." Turning toward my bedroom I called to her, "Will I see you for lunch?"

"Yes." She replied as she continued to type, never looking at me, "Tank just left a message. He, Les and Bobby will be joining us. Probably to go over the plans for tonight. Oh, and you have a two o'clock appointment with a Mr. Winston in Newark. Do you want to reschedule that?"

"I'm just dropping off a price list for him."

"I could e-mail it to him if you'd like."

"He's an older gentleman. He's one of my father's neighbors. I'd like to meet with him in person."

"Will you be back in time for tonight?" Anxious, she stared at me.

"I'll be there if that's a concern."

"It is."

"Then, I'll definitely be there, as promised." With that, I shut my bedroom door then headed toward the bathroom to shower and shave.

I offered a quick goodbye as I closed my apartment door, then took the stairs down to my office, still numb from Connie's earlier comments. Once at my desk, I took the advice of the woman who had come to mean a great deal to me. I called Stephanie but had to leave a message, 'Call me.'

After our team leader meeting, I decided to go for a quick run to clear my head a little and to mentally prepare myself for the possible takedown that night, although I had my doubts that Benny would show up on our first outing. I was more than surprised when I came face to face with Joe Morelli in the park where the running track was. He was ordering a breakfast burrito and coffee from a food truck parked near the street. I was about to take an alternate route when he spotted me and waved me over.

"Ranger. Got a minute?"

"Officer Morelli." Bending at the waist to catch my breath, I continued, "What brings you back to Trenton? I thought you had taken up residence in DC."

"I have and it's Agent Morelli now."

"Pardon my error."

"Don't be a smartass." He chuckled. "I was going to call you but since you're here, you'll save me a call. I need to talk to you about Stephanie. It'll only take a minute of your time."

"So you said." I stretched one arm up and over my head then the other before I settled one foot on the bench Joe was sitting on, to stretch my hamstrings.

"Look, I know that you two have been … together."

I said nothing, keeping any expression from my face.

"Don't give me that blank face bullshit, Manoso. I know what you're doing. I had the same training."

"What do you want Morelli? Make it quick. I'm a busy man. Your minute's almost up."

"Okay, I'll get right to it. Stephanie and I are through."

"How many times have I heard that line?" I laughed as I took my waist and bent from side to side.

"This time it's for good. She's changed and not for the better. She's a distraction that I can't afford to have if I'm going to keep my job with the FBI."

"Too much for you to handle?"

"I could handle her here. I can't handle her there. I'm never around." He stood with his hands deep in his pockets. "I've been given an ultimatum. It's her or my job."

"Are you telling me that your job is worth more than your relationship with Stephanie?" If I would have ever wanted to slug that bastard, that would have been one of those times.

Raising his chin defiantly, he said, "It is. I've been waiting for this opportunity for a very long time and I'm not giving it up now just because Stephanie can't behave."

"So what do you want me to do? Get her a leash?"

"I'm telling you this so that you know that she's free. You can have her. I don't want her any longer. She's become more of a liability than an asset."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I couldn't be more serious."

"Does Stephanie know that you've dumped her?"

"She does. I gave her the option, 'clean up your act or get the hell out of my life'. She took her things and left."

"What exactly do you mean by 'clean up her act'?"

"Don't play dumb. You've been with her. I got the damned motel bill for the damages you two caused."

Remembering back to that night, I had to stifle the grin tugging at my cheeks.

"Didn't you notice that she has a few new tricks in her sexual repertoire? And the drinking? You can't tell me that you didn't notice that too."

The mouthwash at the diner. Shit! That lying bitch. Since I was not around her on a daily basis anymore, I had not put two and two together. I decided to play along to find out what else she had been up to.

"I noticed that she'd probably had a drink or two behind my back. Are you saying that she's been sleeping around, too?"

"Yeah. She started staying out all night and I caught her in our apartment with some guy she'd picked up at a bar. She didn't even know his name. They were both drunk as skunks."

"What about drugs? Do you think she's using?"

"I don't think so but I can't say with absolute certainty. She's still not working, by the way, no thanks to you, so I have complete control of the money. I give her spending money, but I can't account for every cent she spends."

"You're blaming me for this mess because I couldn't get her a job?" I growled. "Don't shift your responsibilities on me because you're incapable of handling your woman."

"She's not my woman. She never was. You know that. She's always been in love with you. I was just her pawn. Her in-between toy when you'd push her away."

"Funny. I always felt the same way about you."

"Look Ranger. I know we've never seen eye to eye on things, especially when it involved the law. However, I know this much, we both care about Stephanie. I can't take care of her anymore, I've moved on and you haven't. It's your turn to watch out for her now."

Stephanie could be mine with no strings attached. Joe had just handed me everything I had wanted for the past few years, on a silver platter. Stephanie, the woman of my dreams, was mine for the taking. Was it really finally my turn to step up to the plate? We were meant to be together. Everyone knew that. My father, my friends, even Connie.

Connie. Poor Connie.

Just a few short hours earlier, I had wanted to tell her things. To tell her how I felt about her. How badly I wanted her. However, she, like Stephanie, had sent me packing. Maybe it was time to give Stephanie another chance after all.

I reached out to take Joe's extended hand.

"Thanks, Joe. I promise I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe and happy."

"I know you will. You always have." Joe tossed his backpack over his shoulder then pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. "Here's where she'll be living."

Unfolding the torn lined paper, I read the address.

"Isn't this near her old place?"

"It is. It's the same owner. I set her up, which is why I'm here. She has a very small studio in the basement until a bigger unit is available."

"Is she there now?"

"She's staying with her parents. At least that's where I dropped her off after she complained about the size of her apartment." I noted a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Thanks for this," I said as I waived the scrap of paper with Steph's address.

"Take care, Ranger. And good Luck. You're gonna need it"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Once I returned to Rangemen, I headed up to my office to get my laptop then on to my apartment to meet with the team to plan our night's strategies. Stephanie would have to wait one more day.

"Need a shower, dude," Les said jokingly, pinching his nose, as I locked my office door.

"On my way now. Meet you on seven in ten."

When I entered my apartment, Connie was setting the dining room table for lunch.

"Hey."

"Hey. Need help?" I offered.

"All set." She said with a smile. "The guys should be here soon."

"I went for a run so I'm going to go take a quick shower before they get here. I'll be right back."

I continued walking as Connie hummed something I had heard her hum before. She seemed to be in a good mood. The macho part of my psyche wanted her to be happy because of the kiss, though apparently meaningless, that we'd shared. The other part of me, the friend, was glad her head was in a better place than it had been.

The water washed away the sweat but not my thoughts. Visions of Stephanie and Connie bounced back and forth in my head like a Chinese Ping-Pong tournament.

Connie was dressed in a navy blue skirt with a matching jacket and bright pink blouse. She had kicked off her matching pumps somewhere near her desk, so she was walking around in her bare feet. Her make-up was flawless and her nails were long and as pink as her blouse. Her dark hair was twisted in a neat knot at the back of her head, allowing her earrings to dangle freely as she walked. The waning scent of her Opium perfume permeated the air after she'd passed by.

"You look very nice, Connie."

"Thanks. No need to look like a bag lady just because I'm homeless at the moment."

I could have argued with her that she was not homeless. I could have told her that this mess would hopefully be all over soon. I could have told her lots of things. I wanted to tell her lots of things. Instead, I said, "I saw Joe this morning."

"Joe? Joe Morelli? Officer Hottie?" She joked.

"He's 'Agent' Morelli, now. I guess that would make him Agent Hottie."

"I suppose so." She said as she slid a sliced carrot between her bright pink lips. "What's he doing here? Isn't he still working for the FBI in DC?"

"He is."

"So what…? Did he bring Stephanie with him?"

"He did. They broke up again. He said it's permanent this time."

"Really? Is he just giving up on her? What an ass."

I did not know if telling Connie everything was wise, at that moment. She certainly had enough on her plate and I knew she was barely holding it together despite her outside demeanor.

"He feels that she's out of control. He doesn't have time to deal with her so he's passed the gauntlet to me to take care of her."

"That's great for you, right? Now's your chance to sweep her off of her feet." Connie said with a note of sadness that both warmed and broke my heart.

"That's what he said."

There was still a God somewhere, although he and I had not chatted for a long while because I heard a knock at the door. The team walked in and greeted Connie with hugs. Les tried to kiss her. I know this because I detected the sound of her hand hitting his cheek.

"Les." She scolded as he rubbed his face as though she had sucker punched him instead of a gentle tap. "Guy's, you really need to get him laid soon, okay." Back to Les, she said, "Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky tonight."

Connie had prepared a grilled chicken salad, with Romaine lettuce, avocado and tomato slices and a large bowl of sliced fruit and berries that she had drizzled with a honey and yogurt glaze. As always, she served warm crisp triangles of pita bread.

Bobby was first to speak after he wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"Great lunch, Connie. You can move in and cook for me anytime."

"Thanks for the offer, Bobby, but I'd like to get back home before I retire."

"Then, let's have at it." Tank suggested as Hector helped Connie carry the dirty dishes to the kitchen counter.

I set my laptop on the table and pulled up Hector's diagram of the club. Just as we were about to begin, there was another knock on my door.

"I'll get it," I said. Connie was about to leave the room. "Stay. There's no need for you to hide any longer."

Scott Martinelli, the guy who had taken Ray Rigazio's initial phone call and later, Trapula's, walked in after I opened the door.

"I'm sorry I'm late, sir. I wasn't scheduled to work until tonight. When you called, I was in Philly visiting my grandmother. There was an accident on the interstate and I had trouble getting around it. I tried to drive in the breakdown lane to take the first exit I saw but I got caught. Took one for the team, sir. Two hundred bucks."

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of that for you. Sit down. We're just getting started." Scott sat beside Les. "Scott, this is Connie Rizzoli. Connie, this is Scott Martinelli. He'll be your date for tonight."

"Pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Rizzoli."

"Call me Connie, please." Then she looked at me and mouthed. "My date?"

"Yes. We thought that it would help root Benny out of his hiding place faster if he discovered that you had already found someone to replace him. We created a dating profile for Scott to fit your requirements as per the info you entered on the website so you'd be a match."

According to Scott Martin's personal data page, he was six-feet, four-inches, with dark hair and a Van Dyke styled goatee. He spent a lot of time in the gym and dressed casually, yet he had expensive taste. His parents were both New York City lawyers. Scott liked to dance and frequented dance clubs looking for women to have a good time with. The young man sitting at the table with us, although tall, dark-haired and bearded; was born and brought up in Everett, Massachusetts before moving to Trenton in his early teens. His mother was a schoolteacher and his father was a plumber. Scott did not frequent bars, but he did frequent the gym. I could not tell you if he was well dressed or not since I had only seen him in jeans and a plaid shirt or his Rangemen uniform. He was most definitely an ex-marine and an accomplished MMA fighter. However, he had neglected to add that tidbit of info to his website resume.

"Makes sense to me. I guess you're my date tonight, Scott."

"It would be an honor, Connie."

Hector had discovered that the action at _Pacerella_ did not begin until after ten so we agreed to meet in the garage around nine, then head out in separate personal cars in twenty-minute intervals. Bobby was going to play bartender so he had to be on duty by seven. There would be someone posted at each door. Only Scott and Connie would remain together once they had connected at the venue.

After dinner that night, while the team gathered the appropriate weapons, including pepper spray, electrical ties, and tasers, Ella and Connie rummaged through her things to come up with just the right outfit for her to wear. It had to be cheap, tart-like and slutty, nothing like the lady that she truly was. When Tank mentioned that she needed to look like a tramp and asked if she could pull it off, she simply replied with her hand on her hip and a snap of her fingers while pretending to crack her imaginary chewing gum, "I'm from Jersey, buster. What do you think? Honey, we invented the tramp."

We were all waiting in the control room until it was time to head out when Connie and Ella arrived. Our jaws dropped at the transformation.

Connie was wearing a pair of bright red open-toed platform shoes with a thin strap encircling each ankle. Dark hose with seams inched their way up the back of her legs and under a tiny red leather skirt that left little to the imagination. She had accessorized the skirt with a black lace bustier that revealed a decent amount of fleshy abs and was secured with red ribbons that she had left untied. The top exposed an ever-widening gap with each breath as her breast threatened to pop out and escape their confines any moment. I wondered if that particular item of clothing had been purchased for public or private viewing.

Her hair was teased up into a hive with a streak of neon pink on one side. Her earrings were as large as the many bangle bracelets that she wore to match her outfit. She had deep dark sexy smoky-colored eyes and extra long lashes that she batted against her oversized sunglasses. Fire engine red lips and matching sparkly nails were in sharp contrast to the short bolero jacket in long fake white fur.

I had an overwhelming urge to cover her with a blanket then stuff her body in a closet.

When she reached into her bag, a two by two-foot square zebra print affair with heavy gold chains as handles, for two sticks of gum; she slid them into her mouth, chewed then snapped it several times before announcing that she was good to go. Sliding the bag handles up her fuzzy arm she asked, "Which one of you sexy fellas drew the short straw?"

"You'll be with me." I pointed to her 2005 ruby red Sonata, that I had just had detailed for her. "You're driving."

"My car!" Even on her red stilts, she easily maneuvered over to her vehicle, slid behind the wheel, fondled it then caressed the dash and seats. "I didn't think I'd ever see her again."

Trying to stay off the grid, Les drove his classic navy blue Mustang hatchback through the gate as Scott and Tank lined up behind him for their turns. Twenty minutes later Scott took to the road in his maroon F150 with a four-inch lift kit and roll bar while Tank followed him in his antique, 1985 155 horsepower white T-Bird. Hector was up next in his candy apple red, first generation 1967 Camaro convertible with a 427 cubic inch v-8 engine. We were the last to leave in Connie's Sonata.

Connie was not only delighting in the fact that she was outdoors despite the darkness but also driving her own car when I asked, "Are you nervous?"

"A tiny bit."

"Don't be. No matter how this goes down, someone will be near you at all times."

"I know that. Thank you again for arranging everything, Ranger. I mean it."

"You're welcome. I'm glad that Ray called me and that I could help you." We turned onto the main road toward Stark Street when I added, as I touched her arm gently, "This will all be over soon, Connie. Then you can get back to being Connie Rizzoli again."

"That would be nice. Listen, do you think that I could take a little time off? You know, after this is over. I'd like to spend some time with my mom at the nursing home. She must be worried sick about me. I usually visit her every Saturday."

Connie's mother was an alcoholic and had done far too much damage to her body and mind to be able to recover and lead a normal life again. Ray was footing the bill.

"I'm certain that can be arranged." Then I asked, "Just out of curiosity, is this outfit part of your everyday wardrobe?"

"You don't think I look good as a tramp?" She smiled and snapped her gum again.

"Connie, you look good in anything you wear," or not, I thought to myself, "but this is just a little over the edge, you have to admit."

"I'm afraid I have a very bad habit of never throwing out my old clothes. This stuff goes back to my rebellious high school days. Why do you like it?"

"It's interesting, to say the least. Do you have any more clothes like this?"

"Tons. It's all the rage now. Vintage or old clothes. I could probably get a lot of money for this jacket." She patted the untamed fur. "As long as I manage not to get any blood on it tonight, that is."

"You won't get any blood on your jacket or anywhere else tonight. I promise."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

Still trying to keep the comfortable rapport between us going, and keeping her mind off of the possibility that our mission might not be successful, I asked, "Have you decided what you're going to do with your house? Are you going to sell it?"

"I think so. I'm going to talk to Uncle Ray again to see if he can help convince my cousins to sell me their share of my grandmother's house. I hope that with the money I get from the sale of my house and another mortgage, I'll be able to pay them all off. Not really sure I can afford to do that but, we'll see. At least that's what I wanted yesterday." Her smile was feeble.

"You still have your job at Rangemen, if you want it."

"I'd like that. I love the job. Unlike working for Vinnie, I'm busy all day. Time just flies by and I'm learning so much. And that was really sneaky, by the way, how you talked Harry into turning over the building and business to you, leaving Vinnie out in the cold." She chuckled.

I shrugged with a smug look on my face. Harry had almost begged me to take over the business when I mentioned it to him. He threw in the deed to the building just to sweeten the pot. The proceeds percentage he requested as part of the transaction was almost laughable.

"We appreciate everything you do here, Connie. It takes a huge burden off of our shoulders."

"Thanks for that. It's nice to be appreciated."

We remained quiet as we passed the downtown movie theatre letting out one group of moviegoers in lieu of the next group, causing a minor traffic jam.

"Connie. I'd like to talk about this morning." She spun her head sharply in my direction. "There's nothing to talk about. Nothing happened."

Her eyes glistened as she changed the subject. "I should have taken a different route." She mumbled to herself, frustrated with the traffic and my topic of conversation.

"Have you thought about where you'll live in the meantime until you can get a place of your own again?"

"With Uncle Ray, I guess. He still lives in the small two-bedroom cape he shared with my aunt when she was alive. He has a spare room. I'll be fine."

"You're welcome to stay at Rangemen for as long as you need. I hope you know that."

"That would be great but under the circumstances that might be a bad idea."

"Why would you say that?"

"Now that Stephanie is free, you'll want her to spend time with you. It wouldn't be right for you to entertain your girlfriend with me in the sidelines. It would make us all very uncomfortable."

"She isn't my girlfriend."

"Not yet. Keep working on it." She reached across the seat and tapped my arm.

Still undecided what I was going to do about Stephanie, although I had made a promise to Joe to protect her and I had every intention of doing just that, I let the girlfriend comment die on the vine.

"Stark is only a block away. You're on your own." I said as I unbuckled my seatbelt and slid down to the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"You need to arrive alone. We can't be seen together. Find a place to park with easy access out of the lot. I'll follow you inside in five minutes."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 _Pacerella_ was not the shithole I had expected, although dark, smoke-filled, and loud, with its fair share of spilled liquor on the floor, it was relatively clean. The motif was characteristic of a barroom by night and family eating establishment by day. The bar itself, the wainscoting, and door frames were constructed of sturdy knotty pine, stained a deep, dark reddish brown with red vinyl covered bar stools and chairs.

Maps of the 'boot' of Italy were prominent, and a tri-colored Italian flag proudly flew outside the entry door. Vinyl wallpaper with chubby male and female Italian cartoon characters labored repeatedly throughout the vineyards on the upper walls that were dotted with framed photos of pasta dishes, old-time sauce jars, the Basilica in Rome, family gatherings with lots of food and children. There were even a few pictures representing young men and women clad in military garb kicking up their heels at the local USO circa WWII. American soldiers and European men in military uniforms watched the proceedings. It reminded me more of a retro VFW than a popular heavy metal dance club.

Connie entered the dimly lit room and used her phone to get into the dating website to notify her 'date' that she had arrived. Scott's phone beeped across the room as he shot pool with a woman dressed very much like Connie. Bobby was tending bar while they approached each other.

I had positioned myself by the rear exit which gave me direct access to the parking lot. Tank stood by the door that not only veered toward the front entrance but the owner's apartment on the second floor. Les hung near the men's room that included a window large enough for a human to sneak in and out of.

Connie and Scott sat at the bar, where Bobby served up virgin drinks and complimentary hot wings. After their initial intro-talk, they hit the dance floor. Scott turned out to be quite the dancer. He and Connie shared several dances, drinks, and laughs. I found myself jealous of the time she was spending with him, not with me. I wanted her in my arms but that was not to be ever again. I had to accept that and move on. I had Stephanie to worry about.

We checked with each other at regular intervals but no one had seen Benny or his crew. At half-past eleven, Bobby took a break from tending bar to tell me that he had just overheard a conversation between two guys who had mentioned the name of Benny's associates. One of those men then made a phone call to someone else, probably Benny.

Bobby heard him say, "Yeah. It's her. I'm positive. I seen her at that bonding office she works at when Tony got bonded. She's getting' cozy with some no-neck dude. Scott, she called him. Never seen him before tonight. No, I don't know who the fuck he is. I told you, I ain't never seen him before. You comin' or not? Fuck your old man. You want payback, don't you? Then you had better get your fuckin' ass over here pronto, man. Yeah, yeah. We'll be inside waiting."

Things were about to get interesting.

I alerted everyone that Benny was most likely headed our way. Bobby walked over to Scott and Connie and handed them each another drink as he relayed the message. We had no idea where Benny would be coming from, but calculated that since the caller had mentioned Benny's old man, that he was probably at the estate in Ewing, only a few miles away. We expected him and his buddies to walk in at any moment.

Twenty minutes later, Benny had not yet appeared when the original caller got another call. He glanced around the room and zeroed in on Connie. I watched him nod his head. One of Benny's men then walked in through the back door from the parking lot, passing within inches of me. I turned my head to the side in case he knew who I was. I did not want to spook him and lose any chance we may have had of catching the little rat bastard, as Connie had nicknamed him.

Another one of his friends came in through the front door, alone. No Benny. I began to wonder if their intent was to kidnap Connie and bring her to him when Les texted that Benny had just snuck in through the bathroom window. We could have nailed him on the spot but we wanted to make sure that he not only went back to jail but that he would remain there until his curly dark hair turned white and fell out.

Benny's friend, named Tony, probably the one the caller was talking about earlier, sauntered over to the bar, where Bobby handed him a beer. Although he kept his eyes on Connie, he also seemed to be studying the area near the bathrooms. His other pal, Joey, who had come in through the front door, walked over to him, then took a beer from Bobby also. They spoke in hushed tones that Bobby could not understand due to the din of blasting live music. When they each went their own way, I observed them circling Connie and Scott like a pack of wolves.

Benny peered around the corner. I texted Les but got no reply. Benny was rubbing his hand.

'Les is down,' I texted to everyone. Scott excused himself from Connie to check on Les after he walked her over to the bar so that Bobby could keep an eye on her. Tank and I stepped in a little closer while Hector kept his cover amongst the pool players. Scott slid by Benny as though he was not there.

"I wouldn't go in there right now, man. I think someone had the shits." Benny did not want anyone to see what he had done to Les until he'd completed his dirty deed, so he had dragged him into one of the stalls to hide his body while he was still unconscious.

"Good advice," Scott said then turned as though he was going to return to the bar.

"Hey, who's the chick? She's hot." Benny asked.

"Just met her online. Some dating website."

"How's it going?"

"Great. One more drink and she should be primed and ready to take for a walk. You know what I'm sayin'?" Scott nudged Benny.

"Yeah. I do." Benny was not about to let Scott have a crack at her when he had not yet had that pleasure. He suddenly made a b-line for Connie. Knowing we would be right on his coattail, Scott let him go then went to check on Les.

Tony and Joey had made their way toward the bar, pushing and shoving patrons as they weaved their way through the crowd, carrying weapons I could not identify while creating a pathway for Benny.

With our coms all in play, I vocalized, "Now." The team emerged from the woodwork, including Hector and his pool cue and Scott with blood on his hands followed by a bloody and dazed looking Les.

Nothing ever goes as planned.

Bobby threw a beer at Tony, who saw it coming and ducked behind a middle-aged man with a woman who may or may not have been his wife. The bottle hit the man in the head, showering broken glass all over the woman he was with and the bar. In turn, she threw her drink and colorful expletives at Bobby but hit the mirror behind the liquor bottles instead, sending shards of reflective glass spearheads onto the floor.

When Tank reached for Benny, a very inebriated young man charged at him with hands raised like a bull toward the _toreador_. It only temporarily knocked a slight puff of air out of Tank, but the kid bounced off of his stomach and fell onto the floor where he coiled himself into a fetal position and began to cry.

Hector then swung his pool cue at Joey, catching him on the bridge of his nose. Blood spurted immediately as he dropped to his knees.

The free-for-all had begun. I was already tallying up the bill I would receive from the owner for damages to his precious bar when another beer was lobbed at me.

I had managed to avoid direct contact by only a millimeter, as it crashed against the retaining post behind me, raining more glass and beer onto an unsuspecting public. From my peripheral, I detected Tony coming at me with a barstool. I redirected the projectile with my arm, then caught him with a right hook to the chin, finally punching him in the kidney with my left. As he started to fall, I hit him over the head with doubled fists for good measure. Tony was out for the count. That left Benny.

Scott had been standing in front of Connie but unfortunately, after he'd let a few punches connect with Benny's head while he had him in a chokehold, he was on his way to the floor subsequent to Benny zapping him with his taser. Les, still stunned from his own injuries, was making little headway in keeping Benny from hurting Connie. Only a few inches from her face, Benny sliced the air with a military-style serrated knife.

"You bitch." He screamed at her. "You're gonna pay for what you done to me."

Connie's knee was rising quickly to cause the kind of damage only a woman can do to a man, when a hand reached through the fracas and grabbed the wrist holding the knife, giving it a good twist. It popped, then cracked as Benny shrieked. The knife scuttled across the floor.

"Enough Benny. You've caused enough trouble for one night."

I immediately recognized the voice. When I turned, I came face to face with Robert Trapula and his well-dressed goon squad.

Benny started to say something, but only managed the word 'dad' when Robert's fist hit Benny square in the mouth. Blood dripped from a split lip that was swelling before my eyes.

"I've had my fill of your insolence and impertinence. I told you not to leave the house. You never listen to me. That's always been your problem. You think you're so god damned smart. You think you know better than I do. You don't, you ignorant little prick." Without looking at me, as he purposely pulled his snow-white handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the blood from his hand, he said, "Mr. Monoso. I believe B. Trapula is one of your bonds. Cuff him."

Tank had one wrist. I took the broken one, then slid the wire tie up his hand and tugged it nice and tight.

"I hate you, you bastard." He spit blood at his father as he struggled in his confines. "You've never done nothing for me."

Robert took an easy stance and folded his arms across his Armani covered chest.

"Really? Is that how you see it? Your little stunt here is going to cost me a bundle in addition to the dough I posted for your bail. That's a lot of fucking money, Benny."

"You can afford it. Besides, I'm your son, for fuck's sake. You should be protecting me instead of that stupid Rigazio cunt." He lifted his chin toward Connie.

Benny's body jerked from the force as his father's fist grabbed his shirt, lifting him up off of the floor.

"When you beat the shit out of your wife, I bailed you out. I paid for the best lawyer money could buy." He said, then dropped him to the floor again.

"Lotta good that did. I spent two years behind bars. Two fucking years of my life wasted."

"That was your own damned fault. The evidence was overwhelming because you couldn't stop shooting off your big mouth, you stupid sonovabitch."

"It was self-defense."

I had managed to get a copy of the trial manuscript and read the court proceedings. Benny had come home stoned, then attacked and raped his wife. When she threatened to go to the police, he beat her senseless.

"Self-defense? You tied her to your bed frame. It cost me a fucking fortune for that girl's medical bills. She's still not right."

"She never was." He mumbled then laughed.

Tank still had a good grip on the wire ties when Robert let one rip to Benny's gut. Not that I felt badly for the kid, but I had a sense that this was not the first time that Robert Trapula had hit his son in this manner. If he ever wondered why his own flesh and blood was so violent, he needed only to look into his own mirror. Like father like son. The apple and the tree, and all that.

"And that other woman, was that was self-defense too?"

"Yeah, it was."

"You bound and gagged her. You burned your initials on her ass with your cigarette, you fucking moron."

"What can I say? She likes it rough." He smiled and chuckled as he added. "Hey, it just got a little out of hand."

"You raped her too."

"It was consensual." He screamed.

"Bullshit!" Benny was having a great time goading his father. He was well practiced. "What about this lady here?" He was looking at Connie. "Exactly what did she do to deserve your wrath?"

"Easy. She's Rigazio's bastard kid. He's your sworn enemy."

"You tried to hurt her because she's Ray's …?"

"Niece," I interjected. "She's his niece."

"Fuck that. Everybody knows Ray was fucking her old lady. He still would be if she wasn't in the loony bin." Benny proudly announced to everyone in the room.

It was difficult to keep my fists at my side. I wanted to knock the teeth out of that little bastard's head and would have if Bobby had not placed his hand on my shoulder.

"You're out of control, Benny."

"I was trying to make you proud of me for once."

"You thought that by beating the shit out of Ray's niece, daughter, whatever, that I would be proud of you? He's a business associate, you fucking idiot. We have an . . . agreement" Robert raised his fist again just as the police entered the building. Instead, he tugged at his suit jacket then smoothed his necktie. "You're as stupid as your worthless mother."

In an ice cold, matter-of-fact tone, Robert affirmed to his son. "You have disrespected me and our good name for the last time, Benny Trapula. You are now dead to me. You are no longer my son." He swiped his hands across each other as though he was wiping off some dirt. Looking at me, he said. "Get him out of here. I don't ever want to see his fucking mug again." As he faced his bodyguards, he said, "Write the owner a check for whatever he wants to pay for these damages." He glanced at the broken glass and blood and injured people. "Drinks are on me, everyone. Don't let this little bastard spoil your fun." He said with a big grin.

Some people never learn. As Robert and his entourage walked leisurely toward the exit door, Benny called to his father.

"Hey, Dad. Does this mean you aren't gonna pay for my lawyer?" The jackass had the nerve to laugh.

Robert was under the exit sign when he replied, "Get a public defender. You're a pauper now. You can rot in jail for the rest of your life, as far as I'm concerned. Three strikes you're out. Ball game's over." As though nothing had happened, as though he had not just beaten then sentenced his own son to prison for life, Robert Trapula said to his bodyguards, "Hungry boys? I'm starving. Must have worked up an appetite. Let's find us a nice big porterhouse. Castillo's I think. What do you say?"

If I had to guess, I would have to say that he had, in fact, just wiped his hands clean of his son.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Hal and Manny arrived together soon after the fracas, in a Rangemen Explorer, so that Hal could drive Les's car back to the garage. His eyes were still too swollen and sealed shut to see well enough to drive. He may have had a concussion, as well. Benny had clocked him with the bathroom door just after he had texted me, consequently Bobby had to drive him home. Connie was a pack of nerves so, I took her home. Manny drove her Sonata.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time we had gotten Benny to the police station and gave out statements.

"Is it over? Is it really over?"

"It is. How are you doing?"

"It's nothing that a tall glass of tequila with a splash of lime wouldn't cure." She joked.

I reached across to the glove box and removed a small bottle of bourbon that I kept in case of emergencies. For example, if there was an injury with an open wound, it would serve two purposes. One, it would help disinfect the wound and two; it would help numb the pain both inside and out. My parents had always kept a small flask of whiskey in their vehicle for the same reason. With six kids, there was always one of us with a bee sting or skinned knee.

"Thanks for sticking up for me back there." Connie tilted the bottle to her lips. "You know, when Benny made that crack about my mother and Uncle Ray."

"It angered me. He had no right saying those things about you."

"Do you want to hear whole story?"

"Only if you want to tell me about it."

"Truth is, I don't know the truth. Anthony Rizzoli is listed as my father on my birth certificate. He and my mother were married to each other when I was born. Of that, I am certain. I verified it when I was old enough to look into the city hall records. My father, Anthony, was an alcoholic as you know, which is how my mother got started drinking. He was killed in a drunk driving accident when I was about four. After his death, my mother stopped drinking for a while but then she started up again. She dated some loser and he took her to clubs. You can figure out what happened after that. Don't get me wrong, she wasn't a bad person. She was a loving, caring mother when she was sober. She has a disease, an addiction."

I thought of Stephanie.

"How does Ray fit into the picture?"

"My mom and Ray went to school together. They dated. At least that's what my grandmother said. Mom isn't coherent enough now to talk about it and Ray would never say anything against my mother. My father was one of Uncle Ray's friends from when he was in the service."

Connie continued to sip slowly. I hoped it would relax her a little.

"I didn't know Ray was ex-military."

"He was in Vietnam. My father was a medic, like Bobby. Uncle Ray was shot while out on patrol and my father patched him up. Saved his life, to hear him talk about it. You know Ray, he always feels that he owes anyone who does anything for him."  
"He's still like that now." I said, remembering Ray's words to me when I told him that I had found Connie and taken her to a safe place.

'I owe you Ranger. Anyt'ing you ever need, anyt'ing at all, you call me. You hear me? I can't t'ank you enough for takin' care of my little girl.'

"He is." She said with a gleam in her eye. "He has his faults but deep inside, he's a good man."

"You're obviously very fond of him."

"I am. I love him very much. Anyway, my father came to visit him after he was discharged, so he set him up with my aunt, Uncle Ray's wife, who also happens to be my mother's sister, by the way."  
"Looks like things didn't go as planned."  
"Nope. My mother and father eloped after a time. Uncle Ray later married my aunt. I guess he felt guilty about what happened. He was always very good to her but I doubt he was ever in love with her. My father, on the other hand, would get drunk and beat on my mother. Ray would take my mother and hide her until she sobered up but she always went back. Suddenly, my mother was pregnant. That's when the rumors began that Ray and my mother were sleeping together."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Honestly? I don't care. Anthony Rizzoli was my father. He gave me his name. Beyond that, I don't really remember him. The pictures that I have of him are just pictures of a man I don't know. They could be pictures of an actor who was photo shopped into our family album."

"And Ray?"

"He was what a dad should be. He took me to church, to the carnival, he played catch with me in the back yard, and chaperoned on class trips. He even took me to the father and daughter dance when I was in high school. Bought me my first semi formal dress. People wagged their tongues, but I didn't care. He took me to the gun range too, despite my mother's objections." She chuckled. "I remember him saying," Connie's voice deepened. " 'Puddin', you gonna live in Jersey, you gotta learn to defend yourself.'"

"Puddin'?"

"Don't ask. Please. Just don't ask."

"It's too late to disturb your uncle. You should stay with me tonight. We'll get you packed up in the morning." I said, prior to arriving at Rangemen. The bourbon was gone. Connie had sipped her way to the bottom on the short ride back to my apartment.

"Sure. Whatever you say, boss." She mumbled as her head listed, then tapped the side window. She was out for the count.

Once in the garage, I woke her enough to get her out of the car then carried her into the elevator and into my apartment. I removed the pins from her hair and her jewelry then her clothing, as I always had with Stephanie, and covered her with one of my t-shirts. I pulled her door shut carefully so as not to wake her, then showered and went to bed.

The following morning I entered a dark kitchen. There was no coffee, no breakfast, no Connie. Her door remained shut. A short time thereafter, I heard her toilet flush so I knew she was finally awake. She opened her door slowly and swore as the hinges squeaked. Her hair was pointing in several directions like Medusa making me rethink my decision to pull out the pins that had held it together. Her beautiful smokey eyes resembled a fighter on the losing chair of the ring. Tugging at the hem of my t-shirt, she shuffled toward me.

"Good morning." I managed to hold back my laughter but only barely.

She grabbed at her head and covered her ears. "Fuck. Don't yell at me. I'm not deaf."

"Have a bit of a hangover, do we?"

"What the hell did you give me to drink? And where are my goddamned clothes?"

"It was bourbon. And you were supposed to take a hit and stop, not suck it down like Kool-Aid." I handed her a cup of coffee and guided her to the barstool. "As for your clothes, I removed them. Obviously."

"Obviously." She repeated then brought her cup to her lips. "Shit. I can't drink this. I can't tilt my head back."

"Would you like me to get you a straw?"

I knew that the cup of coffee would have colored my t-shirt and walls, had Connie been able to move fast enough to throw it at me, but I took the cup from her hands as she whined, while promising to replace it quickly with a cup of tea, some crackers and two ibuprofen.

She sipped slowly then asked, "Did we, you know?"

I could have teased her and insisted that she tell me exactly what she meant but I took pity on her and said, "That would not have been a possibility. I literally had to pour you into your bed. Sex was not an option. Besides, I shut my eyes."

"Good." After a few more sips of tea, she asked, "Are we still on for getting me to Uncle Ray's today?"

"He's waiting for you. Your car is in his driveway. The guys dropped it off last night. I'd like to take you over there, if you don't mind."

"I'd like that. When can we leave?"

"Why don't you take a nice long shower? When you're feeling better, after you've had lunch, I'll take you over there."  
She slid from the barstool.

"I can just get dressed and we'll go. I'll shower there."

"That's your choice, but…" I must have had a pained look on my face as I reached up to touch her hair.

"What?" She asked, then came in contact with the broken hay bale on top of her head as she took in her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace in the living room. "Oh my fucking word. Why didn't you tell me that I …"

I pointed to her suite.

"A shower will take care of everything." Standing, I directed her toward her room then shut her door.

After a short nap, a shower and lunch, Connie was packed and ready to go.

"Are you sure you don't mind if I leave my furniture here until I get settled?"

"Of course not. Take as long as you need." I said as we drove from Rangemen headquarters around one o'clock. "It's just a storage space."

Nothing else was said during the short trip across town to her uncle's until we reached the driveway. I parked behind Ray's older model white Cadillac while he stood on the front stoop. Some things never change.

Ray had his signature stogie hanging out of his mouth, while wearing a wife beater t-shirt under an unbuttoned beige shirt, the required bling and a pair of powder blue leisure pants with large knees and scruffy shoes.

As I turned to open my door, Connie reached out and touched my arm.

"Wait Ranger. There's something I want to say." Facing me, she wrung her hands then said, "I want to thank you again for everything you and Rangemen have done for me. I could never have gotten through this without your help and patience. I'll never be able to repay you but if there is ever anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask."

"All I ask is that you come back to work for Rangemen. And maybe agree to cook dinner for me occasionally."

She laughed, lessening the anxious feeling she had.

"I can do that." She placed her hand on the door handle. "Is a week okay?"

"That would be fine. If you need more time, just let me know."

"I will." She hesitated as though she had more to say. She did. "I'm going to miss you, Ranger Manoso."

I was going to miss her too.

"The next week will fly by."

"I suppose." Again she hesitated."

"Connie?"

Suddenly, she slid her hands, one on each side of my face and kissed me. A deep, hard, desperate kiss, that left me breathless.

Ray tapped on the window and the moment was gone.

"I should go." Ray opened the door, either oblivious to what had just happened or unable to see through the tinted glass.

"Welcome home, Puddin'."

She embraced her uncle as I placed her one large suitcase beside her, before she retreated inside after a friendly finger wave.

"I made d'at phone call you suggested. I didn't t'ink he'd agree, but you was right. He was happy to oblige. He said d'is was d'a least he could do considerin' what happened."

"That's great."

"Sure. Sure. No _problema_. Anyt'ing for my little girl."

As I circled the front of my car, Ray called to me. "T'anks again, Ranger. I owe you my life."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The first few days after Connie left, were hell. Although I'd planned to fill my days with work, I knew that my nights would be nearly unbearable. I had lived alone for many years feeling satisfied, but the short time I had spent with Connie, had made me see just how spot-on my father's words had been. "You are a very lonely man, my son." He had said. I had not realized just how hungry for companionship I was.

When, on Monday morning, I offered to take care of Friday payroll in Connie's absence, Tank threatened to shoot me and put me out of misery.

"Are you out of your mind? You say that again and I'm gonna ram a copper slug between your eyes." With his hands folded together, pointing his index fingers at me, he took aim then pretended to fire. "Bang. Put you down like a rabid dog."

"We've always taken turns at payroll. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? Ranger! Can you hear yourself? Seriously Dude, get your ass out to Philly to get laid or make a move on your woman."

"Connie's not my woman."

"Connie? I never mentioned her name." I turned to glare at the big man filling my guest chair. "I meant Stephanie." He smiled into his coffee cup.

"Stephanie's not my woman either." I leaned back in my chair, letting my head knock against the wall.

"Speaking of Stephanie, what are you going to do about her? I hear she's back again." I had not told Tank or anyone but Connie about my visit with Morelli and even at that, I had only told her a few details. I needed to tell someone.

"I haven't decided how I'm going to handle her yet."

"With Joe out of the picture for good, make your move."

"It's not going to be that easy. She has … issues."

"Got that right. The woman's certifiable. No doubt about that." He chuckled.

"That's not what I mean."

I nodded toward my office door. Tank reached toward the door with his large paw and gave it a push until it clicked.

"Spill." He said, as he bent forward, his elbows on his knees.

Leaning forward myself, as though we were conspiring to take over a nation, I placed my folded hands together in the center of my desk then relayed what Joe had told me about her most recent escapades, and drinking, and what I had personally observed.

"Man, I had no idea it was that bad. What happened to her? Two beers and she'd be under the table. And sex wise, I can't vouch for that. You would know better than me."

It was no secret to Tank that Stephanie and I had been together in the past, though we had never actually discussed it in detail. Unlike my cousin Les, I was never a kiss and tell kind of person.

"Too much free time on her hands? Too many cocktail parties, maybe? Joe didn't say."

"Bastard would never admit any of this was his fault." I shrugged. "So what are you going to do? Anything?"

"I promised him that I would watch over her and I will."

"Anything left," he tapped his chest, "in here?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Honestly? I don't know anymore."

"Have you seen or talked to her since Joe dumped her on your doorstep?"

"No. I haven't. I've called her a few times, but she hasn't called back."

"Do you know where she's staying?"

"She was staying with her folks

"That sucks. How can you talk to her over there? Those aren't the kinds of subjects you want to bring up in front of mom and dad."

Pulling the piece of paper from my wallet, I said, "Joe said he got her an apartment. Maybe she's moved in." I waived the document. "I think I'll go for a little ride."

The address Joe had given me was 1283 Winter Street, Apartment B3. I pulled into an empty parking spot in front of 1285. Stephanie's new home was in a four-story, twenty unit tenement building circa 1930, with worn dark green asbestos siding from the 60's. Several cracked concrete steps with rusty wrought iron railings, spiraled down to her basement apartment. The main entry door lead to units B1 and B2 while a separate entrance lead to units B3 and B4, some twenty feet away.

Dented and scarred metal doors, with peeling paint, were on my left and right with a third door that opened into a small laundry room. The space smelled of dryer sheets and cat piss. A large B1 had been hand painted on one door and a B2 on the other. Stephanie's door was unlocked although from the condition of it, I had my doubts that it would actually lock at all. I turned the knob.

Peering through the small sliver I had created into her apartment, it showed me that Stephanie's decorating tastes had not changed. There was a small TV on an end table under her picture window that was draped with olive and red curtains that hung haphazardly like an old bathrobe from a sagging bent rod. A small card table with two folding chairs made up the dining area while a micro-fridge, sink and two-burner hot plate served as the kitchenette. A foldout sofa with a loud plaid print was the centerpiece of the small one room studio. What was not her standard decorating fair, were the many empty beer bottles scattered all over the floor as she lay asleep on the couch in her skimpy underwear.

Her formerly curly dark hair was a tangled rat's nest of short spiked bleached knots that needed washing, as did she. I could not miss the bruises on her arms and on her cheek. Her soft delicate cheek.

Once I had taken two steps inside, I sensed movement then heard the toilet flush behind a door I had mistaken for a closet. The door opened just as I made my way back into the dimly lit entryway. The half-naked man that emerged was none other than Morelli. Not Agent Morelli, however, but Mooch.

"Hey, sweet cheeks. Don't you have any clean towels? I want to take a shower before I go to work. These smell like fish."

Stephanie rolled onto her side, letting the bottle that she had been holding, fall to the floor. She yawned before she replied.

"Nope. That's it. What you see is what you get."

"Fuck. Don't you ever do laundry, woman? That means I have to go to my place before I go to work. I don't have time for this shit."

Suddenly more awake, Stephanie called out to him.

"Hey Moochie, Baby." She said in a singsong voice as she undid her bra and threw it at him. "Come here." She crooked her finger just before she removed her panties. "Fuck the laundry. Fuck off work, if you want, but first, come fuck me."

"Oh hell yeah, sweet cheeks! I'd rather fuck you than go to work any day."

Stephanie giggled as Mooch leaped over the back of the couch and fell on top of her.

Leaning my back up against the wall outside of her apartment with my eyes shut tightly as I bit my lip, I knew by the sounds they were making that they were not talking about doing the laundry. It was reminiscent of a bad Z grade porno flick.

Back in my car, I returned to Rangemen and my apartment where I paced, ranted to myself, then removed her clothing from my drawers and closet, tossed it about, and then took it all to the incinerator. When I returned, I broke a few dishes for good measure. I was sweeping up the broken pieces when Ella knocked on my door. She had come to clean.

"Did I just see you coming out of the incinerator room?"

I could have lied but I did not have the strength.

"Yes. I was destroying evidence of a recent murder."

Ella laughed.

"Of course you were, dear." She continued, "Anything special for dinner tonight?"

"No. Whatever you're making for the crew, is fine with me."

"I'm making … Ranger, what happened to your hand?"

I had apparently cut my hand on a piece of glass, then left a dotted trail across the light colored floor tiles.

"I dropped a few dishes." I looked at the small gash. Three maybe four stitches would be required.

"I guess you did." She took a clean dishtowel from the drawer, and then wrapped it tightly around my hand. "Go see Bobby, right now, young man. I'll clean this up. Good God, Ranger. I can't believe you couldn't feel that."

Bobby took five stitches then gave me a small tube of antiseptic cream after handing me the customary _discurso_ that he always did about keeping it clean.

I was holding my hand to my chest, as I took to the stairs, when Tank appeared.

"Bobby says you cut your hand." He stated more as a question than a statement.

"Yeah. I dropped a dish, sliced my hand when I picked up the broken pieces."

"Un hunh , if that's your story and you want to stick to it," He began redirecting me toward my office, "that's fine by me but you're gonna tell me what really happened when you went to see Stephanie."

"I didn't speak to her."

As I crossed to my chair behind my desk, Tank shut, then locked my door.

"Look Ranger. You can lie to Ella all you want, but you're not going to lie to me. Your GPS showed you near her old apartment for nearly a half hour today. I know that's near where she's living now. You were there, man. What in hell happened? And don't leave out whatever fucking story you concocted about the shit you stuffed in the incinerator after you got back."

Tank was standing in front of my door. I had no exit short of the air vents and I knew that he would never let me get that far. I was much stronger than Tank and had he been my height and weight, I could have taken him out with little effort but Tank was taller than I was by at least six inches and outweighed me by over forty pounds, maybe more. I had sparred with him before. It was like fighting with a redwood.

Therefore, I gave in and told him everything I had seen.

"That's harsh, man. What happened to our little girl?"

"I don't know."

"Are you going back?"

"I have to. I can't leave her like that without making every effort to bring her back. If something happens to her because I neglected her, I won't be able to live with myself."

"Do you really think she deserves that much loyalty from you, considering… you know?"

"The old Stephanie does. Don't you think I owe her that much?"

"Wow! Tough decision, Dude."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Later that afternoon, I finally reached Stephanie. She answered after the second ring.

"Yo, Ranger. What's up? Must be important. You've called a hundred times."

Asking her why she had not returned any of my calls by antagonizing her would get me nowhere.

"Just wanted to say hello. I heard you were back in town. I wondered if you might like to have dinner tonight."

"Dinner? Are you serious?" She laughed.

"Sure. Why not?"

"Didn't think you cared about me anymore. You never got me that job I wanted, remember?"

"I spoke to Martin Stewart like you asked me to. You weren't qualified for the job, Steph."

"Bullshit."

"He was looking for someone who had had military training and was an experienced marksman."

"I am."

"Shooting the crap out of an alarm system does not qualify you as an experienced marksman."

"Well, I worked with your guys."

"Steph, my men are military trained. Being in their presence does not make you military trained by osmosis."

"You could have lied."

"Stephanie, if I had lied and you had gotten the job, you would have gotten hurt not to mention putting his employees at risk as well. You were not qualified."

"I can hold my own. You said so yourself."

"You've been lucky so far." I ran my hand over my eyes then pinched the bridge of my nose. "Why didn't you apply for an accounting job? You're qualified for that and you're good at it."

"That's boring."

My desk phone was blinking.

"Look, I have to go. Dinner tonight?"

"Sure. Your place? Or are you still painting?" She said snidely.

Speaking to her in private would have been preferable but Connie's things were still in the office that she had been using as her bedroom.

"I thought we could go to that new Greek place on Windsor."

"Okay. What time?"

The sooner the better.

"Six?"

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

I guessed she did not want me to see her place so I did not argue.

"See you at six."

Stephanie had arrived at the restaurant as high as a kite so I'd opted for take-out instead of dining in. Dinner was tense as were the following few days. I had confronted Stephanie and tried in vain to get her to face her demons. It wasn't pretty.

I spoke to her parents, hoping for a family intervention, but that got me nowhere. They refused to acknowledge that there was a problem with their daughter's mental state, insisting that this 'thing" with Joe would blow over as it always had. Even her grandmother, who had always been her biggest fan, refused to admit that Stephanie needed help. I, not being family, regardless of the connections I had, was unable to get her the help she so desperately needed by placing her in a rehab facility and she flatly refused to admit herself. I was on my own.

Eventually, after many nights of fighting, screaming, leading to punched holes in the walls and even a chair lobbed at me, that had her neighbors banging on her door, Stephanie agreed to remain sober and alone in her bed, if I agreed to stop 'seeing' Connie.

"I'm not seeing Connie."

"Oh come on, Ranger. She's been hold up in your apartment for … forever while you guys tried to find that Trapula jerk."

"She's staying with her uncle, now."

She stuffed another fry into her mouth. "I want her out of your life. Her shit too. Move her stuff out of your storage room, and back to her house where it belongs, or else, no deal."

I had no choice. I had promised Joe I would take care of Stephanie. Do everything I could to save her. I dabbed at my lip with my napkin then said, "Okay, but you have to let me talk to her first so I can explain things. We're friends, just like we are: you and I."

"Fine," she agreed. "but you better move your ass or I'm calling Mooch." She waved her phone at me.

"I'll talk to her today." My appetite was gone and I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. I stood to leave. "I have to get back to the office."

Twirling her chewed off finger-nailed digit, in her short, now dark, curly hair, and a drip of ketchup on her chin, she suggested, "Sure you don't want to stick around for a quickie?"

"No I don't. Go take a shower, then read a book or take a nap or something, Stephanie. I'll be back later after I talk to Connie."

With my hand on the door, she added sharply, "One date, that's all you get and no fucking. If I can't have any fun, neither can you."

I pulled the door shut, leaned my back against it and took a breath, counted to ten, then pushed off and returned to my office.

"You look like shit, man." Les said as I passed him in the hallway outside my office. I punched in my code, twice, then entered and shut my door before I dropped onto the sofa. I let my arm drop over my eyes then allowed sleep to take me.

Visions of a woman in a beaded purple dress swirling around a ball room floor, her hand extended to me, filled my dreams. We clinked our wine glasses as the faceless woman laughed at my jokes. The music continued and I took her by the waist then clutched her hand. Fred and Ginger swept across the cloud covered parquet to cheers and applause. As the fog cleared, her lips touched my neck sending a shiver of electricity through me. She touched my chin, then my lips, warm and moist and inviting. Our tongues danced, our hands roamed, touching, exploring, enjoying each other. Suddenly we were naked. The sheets, sodden and tangled had fallen into a heap on the floor. Our bodies were hot and sweaty with sex, thrusting and crying out. Then she was gone. I called out for her.

A sound, a gunshot, shouting, and an ear splitting scream. Blood. There was so much blood.

Tank was shaking me, trying to lift me from the floor. Les took my other arm as Bobby knelt in front of me, stuffing gauze up my nose, wiping blood from my split lip. My dream now shattered.

"What happened?" Bobby asked softly as he grimaced. I winced when he pinched the bridge of my throbbing nose. "I don't think it's broken but you're probably gonna have a black eye. Keep it iced." He handed me an ice pack. "A stitch or two on that lip wouldn't hurt, either." I glanced at the puddle of blood on the floor. Mine.

"I … I don't know." I shook my head to try to clear it. "I was d…" I started to say, but caught myself. "I was dreaming, I guess. I must have fallen asleep." I rose slowly, all hands waiting for me to collapse.

"Too many late nights with …" Les began.

"Get out, Les."

"But..."

"OUT!" Tank shouted then pointed at my office door, the one with the bullet hole the size of my fist where a touch pad and lock used to be.

Tank spoke to me. "I didn't know what the fuck was going on in here. You were hollering then I heard a crash." The end table lamp was lying on the floor, shattered in a million pieces. "You okay, dude?"

Bobby was picking up his medical supplies, when he said, "You want stitches, come down to the infirmary. I stuck a butterfly on it, but I don't think it's going to hold."

Once the door was shut again, after Bobby's departure, I watched faces bobbing up and down to get a glimpse of their boss in distress, like a game of 'whack a mole', through the opening. It was embarrassing.

Finally catching my breath, Tank sat beside me. "What happened, man?"

Tank and I have an unwritten rule, we can only trust each other if we keep no secrets, so I told him everything.

"I wonder what it means." He said more as a question than a statement.

"Nothing. It was dream."

"No. I don't mean why you were apparently trying to hump the floor, but who the woman was." He chuckled.

"I wasn't … Fuck you." Deciding that denying what I was apparently doing was futile, I said, "I don't know who the woman was. I never saw her face."

"Well, I know this is none of my business but if you want my opinion, you're wasting your time with Stephanie. She's a lost cause. Let Joe or her family pick up the pieces. From what you're telling me, there isn't enough glue on this planet to fix her." He let his large hand rest on my shoulder. "Let it go, Ranger. Move on. You've got your own life to worry about."

"I can't just let her fall down that rabbit hole with no support."

"Yes you can. You have to. She won't help herself. She doesn't want to help herself. She's an addict. Once an addict …" He let the saying linger. "Look what she's doing to you, man. You're a wreck."

I pictured her vomiting while I held her head one minute, then screaming at me and cursing my existence the next. I searched her place high and low and tossed what I thought was all of the Jack Daniels, white powder and whatever else I could put my hands on, only to find her digging out more. Maybe she was a lost cause. Then I remembered about Connie and the deal I'd made with Stephanie.

"I have to call Connie."

Tank became angry when I told him why.

"Don't man. Don't do this to her."

Rounding my desk I pulled out my phone.

"Ranger, don't do it. She's a friend for fuck's sake."

"I have to." I swallowed. "I gave her my word. We made a deal."

Tank left, more angry with me than I had ever seen. Did I deserve it?


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"Hi, Ranger." Connie said cheerily. It was good to hear her voice again; like a soothing balm for my soul. "What's up? Checking to see if I'm coming back to work on Monday?" She joked.

"No, actually, I need to speak to you about something."

"Sounds serious." She said, her tone changing. "Is everything okay?"

"It is. Can we meet? For dinner maybe?"

"Of course. When?"

"As soon as possible." I wondered if I was sounding desperate, perhaps stammering. "Are you free tonight?"

"Yeah. Sure. I guess. I don't have any plans. Would you like me to pick something up on my way over?"

"What? Oh, no. No. Out. We'll go out for dinner. I thought you might like that."

Breaking up with someone in a public place can be both a blessing and a curse, I'd found over the years, but was I really breaking up with her? We weren't a couple. We were friends, just friends, right? Nothing more, nothing less.

Dreamily, I thought back to the kiss we'd shared that one morning. I had wanted more from her, so much more but she'd pushed me away. She didn't want me. She'd made it crystal clear. Told me of her plans to move out as soon as Trapula was back behind bars. Said I should go after Stephanie. Make it work. I was trying. I was giving it everything I had with Stephanie. It all reminded me of the many times that I had sent Stephanie back to Joe. Payback is a bitch. Was I risking everything, even my lifetime comradeship with Tank, and now with Connie just to have a shot at a future with Stephanie?

"Ranger? Ranger. Are you still there?"

"What? Yes. I'll pick you up at your uncle's around six. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Ranger, are you sure you're all right? You sound, I don't know, distracted."

"It's Stephanie. She's been …"

"Right. Stephanie. Of course. I understand. See you at six." She said, then disconnected.

Showered and stitched, I arrived at Ray's just before six, parked in his driveway, then knocked at the weathered front door. Connie called out.

"Door's Open. I'll be right there."

As she walked though the doorway and we slipped into the darkness, I said, "How did you know it was me? Could have been anyone? You should keep your doors locked."

"I heard your engine from two blocks away and I saw you behind the wheel."

"Okay. You're forgiven."

Once Connie was seated, I shut her door then rounded the car and took my seat.

"How have you …" she began then stopped. "What happened to your face?"

I glanced at my reflection in the rear view mirror. Blackening eye socket, swollen nose and angry lip. It wasn't pretty yet gingerly she reached up to caress my cheek.

"Ranger?" she questioned after a moment of silence.

How did I explain what had happed when I wasn't completely certain myself.

"Work related. You should see the other guy." I joked, making light of the situation.

"I bet." She said then fastened her seatbelt. After a beat she said, "How is Stephanie?"

"Okay."

"Ranger," she asked cautiously, "did Stephanie do this?"

I could have let her take the blame but I didn't, although there was a healing bruise on my arm where a chair and my bicep had met.

"No, Connie. Stephanie had nothing to do with this. It was an accident." Had this been Stephanie's doing, if only by suggestion?

Most of our conversation consisted of catching up with the goings on at Rangemen, and Ray's shenanigans, avoiding any talk of Stephanie, until Connie rang the bell.

"Okay," she began as she placed her napkin beside her empty dinner plate. "You asked me to dinner because you wanted to talk to me. What do you want to talk to me about?"

Having fortified myself with a long sip of black coffee, I set the cup on the table, then steepled my fingers to my chin.

"As you know, I've spent this past week with Stephanie," I began. Connie's chin twitched slightly so she coughed.

"And? How is she doing?" Nervously she began to relocate her water glass and silverware.

"Not well. It hasn't been easy."

"How so?" The waitress removed our plates but left Connie's silverware and wine glass, which she refilled from the carafe in the center of the table. Connie took a big gulp.

"She's in denial, mostly."

"That never bodes well."

"No. It doesn't. She needs more help."

After another swig, Connie asked. "Does she even want your help? Well, anyone's help, I mean."

"I think she does. At least she will, in time, once she admits to having a problem."

"What are you doing for her, exactly?"

"I've been trying to keep her company, keep her busy and sober, you know, but I no sooner find a bottle that she's hidden somewhere, she pulls another from her stash."

"Reminds me of my mom. Her favorite place was in the clothes hamper, under the dirty clothes." She continued." What more can you do for her? What about her parents? Joe? Can't they help you?"

"Her parents don't feel that there is a problem, That this will all blow over soon and that she and Joe will get back together. I haven't spoken to Joe since he dropped her in my lap."

"Where does that leave you? You can't be with her all of the time. I know you want to do everything you can for her and you will, but what about you? You have a business to run and your family?"

After a deep sigh, I had to look away and began rearranging my own silverware.

"Oh. I see. She wants to move in with you, doesn't she? That's why you wanted to meet with me so quickly. It would make everything so much easier for you, wouldn't it?"

I hesitated, but Connie is smart.

"There's more, isn't there?"

"Yes." I said then tried to bite my sensitive lip. "We made a deal."

"It's me." Her voice hitched slightly. "Isn't it? She doesn't want you anywhere near me. Me and my things." She spat out. "She thinks that we're… We never … I." Connie emptied her glass to refocus and suck back the tears that were threatening to spill.

The waitress arrived again to remove the rest of our dishes and offered us more wine. Connie quickly refused.

"You know, Ranger. It's really just as well. I had something to tell you and I didn't know how to break it to you." She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes.

Tilting my head, "Go on." I urged.

"You see … This is funny actually. I won't be going back to Rangemen after all. I'm sorry about that, but Uncle Ray wants to send me to Italy." She chuckled painfully.

"Italy? Why Italy?"

"Well, I've wanted to go to Italy since, I don't know, forever. I always planned that I'd go for my honeymoon. Childhood fantasy, you know? I still have family there." Without looking at me she spoke more quickly, "Uncle Ray has friends who have sons who would be suitable husbands for me," she said. "Weird, huh? Instead of me going to Italy with my husband, I'm going there to get one." She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "So you see, you're off the hook. No harm, no foul, right? Stephanie and you will have the whole place to yourselves."

"Connie."

"Yeah, sorry I didn't say something sooner. I mean, Uncle Ray and I have been talking about it for a while. Long before this whole Trapula thing, actually." Connie motioned to the waitress to bring the bill. I handed her my credit card. "Do you mind if we go now? I have a lot planning and packing to do."

"When are you leaving?"

"When? Oh. Soon. In a few days. Ray's getting my tickets." Connie stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. "Coming?"

The waitress handed me the slip, which I signed, then returned my card to my wallet. Connie was already headed out the door.

"I should catch a cab, so you can go check on Stephanie. Don't want her waiting."

"No. I'll take you home. Stephanie can wait."

It would have taken a machete to cut the ice in the air in my car. Connie stared out of her window until we pulled up to her uncle's door. I made to open my door as Connie quickly released her belt and opened her door.

"Don't bother getting out of the car. I'll be fine." As she stood outside the car, with her hand on the door, she added. "Uncle Ray will be contacting you tomorrow about moving my things. He has a guy."

"Connie, wait," I pleaded as she turned quickly, practically running, toward the gray house. "Can we talk about this some more?" Though I wasn't really sure there was anything else to say to her.

She stopped then turned to look at me with her hand on the porch door knob. I didn't know who I was looking at first. The portico light behind her cast a foggy, silver halo around her head, as she said, "There really is nothing more that we have to say to one another, Ranger. Thank you for dinner. Good luck with Stephanie. Good bye." She was suddenly engulfed in a cloud of evening dew then disappeared though the door. Had I just seen the woman of my dream?

Stephanie had left a message while Connie and I were at dinner.

"Well? Did you do it? Did you get rid of her? When can I move in?" She sounded dissonantly gleeful.

I drove to her apartment to check on her, as I had every night that week and let myself in.

Stephanie was asleep on her couch in her underwear, clutching a bottle of blue tequila that had spilled and formed a blue puddle on her rug. Removing the bottle, I sopped up the spill then covered Stephanie with the soiled blanket on the back of the sofa. I emptied the trash in the kitchen, more beer bottles, washed the dishes in the sink then generally picked up the place. I stopped with my arms heaped with her dirty laundry once I reached the bathroom. Mooch Morelli was passed out drunk and naked in the bathtub; a used condom stuck to his thigh.

We had a deal.

I removed her apartment key from my chain and set it on the coffee table then used her phone to call Joe Morelli, and her grandmother.

Locking her door behind me, literally and figuratively, I returned to Ray's to try to talk to Connie and hopefully salvage some part of the friendship we'd shared.

The house was dark when I arrived. No sign of Connie or Ray. I knocked at the door then tapped in her number only reaching her voice-mail. "Connie. Please call me. I …" The phone went dead. She must have deleted my call before I'd completed it so I returned home.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Aggravated with myself and unable to sleep, I meandered throughout the hallways at Rangemen, then wandered around inside my apartment. Finding no solitude or comfort, I took to the stairs and my rooftop sanctuary. The night air was cold and crisp but I was numb to it. I stood near the edge only vaguely considering a jump. Not that it would have been possible, since I'd installed a safety fence around the perimeter, for my own safety, not long after I'd built my apartment.

I watched the eventual sunrise, similar to the one I had committed to memory, that morning with Connie. She was so happy and so warm in my arms. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to fantasize about what might have been had she allowed me into her heart and her bed.

If only she had let me in.

What the hell had I done so wrong through the years to make such a fucking mess of my personal life? I'd agreed to marry the woman who'd become pregnant with my child after a one night stand, only to have her file for divorce then take my daughter away from me, refusing to allow me to be a part of her life. I'd rescued Connie and provided her with a safe home. For my efforts, she was refusing to speak to me and was probably on her way to Italy to find a new man to spend her life with. Then there was Stephanie. I'd tired every trick in the book to help Stephanie but I'd failed there too, somehow. My heart was turning to stone and I knew my soul would soon follow.

I snubbed out the cigar I'd tried to smoke and was about to toss the butt over the wall when I heard the cold metal door squeak behind me. My building was secure, of that I was confident, so whoever was behind me, was a friend and not a foe.

"What do you want?"

I had assumed it was Tank come to chastise me again. When I arrived home from trying to see Connie, after sulking around the building while fuming, I had reprimanded an employee for no reason. Tank dragged me toward the stairwell then delegated me to my room like a child so I could 'think about' what I had done.

She cleared her throat.

"I thought I'd find you up here." Connie said then pushed the door shut. "Do I smell cigar?"

Without turning, I lifted what was left of the cigar.

"You do."

Gravel crunched under her shoes as she approached me.

She remained silent for a bit. I was about to ask her what she wanted when she said, "I thought I'd stop by and start sorting stuff out to move it out or take with me to Italy. Uncle Ray's got a guy."

"So you've said."

More silence.

"Gosh, it's cold up here." I pictured her crossing her arms across her chest and rubbing her biceps. "And windy, too. I don't remember it being like this the last time we were here."

I scanned the area visibly before I replied. "This is the tallest building in the neighborhood. If there is a breeze to be had, you'll find it here."

Connie moved closer and stood beside me but I didn't look at her. I couldn't. I'd hurt her so badly. I was such a miserable fuck up when it came to relationships, which was why I had refused to get involved with anyone on a permanent or semi-permanent basis in the past. I could talk my way out of any situation while in the military or make my point to a prospective client when it involved my business, but I had no clue how to talk to a woman about my feelings for her. Pleasing her under the sheets was never a problem, but I couldn't hold a normal conversation with her to save my life. Thankfully my enemies weren't aware of that flaw.

"I hope you don't mind that I stopped by without calling. I forgot something."

"No. Of course not," I said but wanted to add, "This is your home and it always will be" though I didn't. Instead I stupidly said, "I thought you'd be gone by now."

"Not yet. Soon though."

"Got your plane ticket yet?"

I heard her sigh before she replied. "This morning."

"When do you leave?"

"Not sure. Uncle Ray is buying my ticket. He said he's set up with Expedia dot com or something."

Connie was lying, but why? Ray had trouble dialing a rotary phone, never mind navigating a website to purchase an airplane ticket. If it didn't have a trigger, he had no use for it.

"I see."

"I heard about what happened with Stephanie. The grapevine was lit up like a Christmas tree this morning. My phone starting ringing around eleven last night and hasn't stopped."

Was that why my call to her had gone dead?

"I can just imagine what people are saying."

"They aren't blaming you. I guess her parents and Joe have been burning up their phone minutes, though." She said then asked, "What really happened last night?" My hands were deep in my pockets when she slid her arm through mine.

"We had a deal. She didn't live up to her end of the bargain."

"You did your best. I'm sure you did. No one can fault you for that." When I didn't respond right away she asked, "Are you okay?"

I shrugged then said, "I couldn't help her, Connie. I tried. I just wasn't good enough."

"What can I do to help you?"

"Nothing. I've failed."

There was more uncomfortable silence.

Then I stupidly said. "Sorry. I guess I'm not very good company at the moment."

"Well, I should go, then." She said resolutely as she rested her hand on my elbow then gave it a gentle tap. "You have a lot on your mind and I have packing to do."

"Say something you idiot. Say something to her before she leaves. If she walks out that door, she'll never come back. You'll lose her forever, you fucking moron." I could hear Tank though he hadn't said the words to me, he'd only grunted, but I knew that is what he was trying to say.

"Ricky, what are you doing? You want her in your life, si? Then why are you letting her go? She will not return, my son. She is proud. She will not force herself on you if she does not think that you want her." Papi's words rang out to me from his last call. "Hold onto her. She is a good woman. She will make you happy."

"She is a lovely girl, Ranger. You two are good together. You are happier now than I have seen you in a very long time. Don't let her go, or you'll regret it the rest of your life." Even Ella had done her bit.

Then there was Ray Rigazio. "Take care of my little girl."

"Good bye, Ranger." Connie said while I was in my daze then repeated it she began to open the heavy metal door that lead down to my apartment . "If there is anything I can do for you, just call me."

Suddenly more aware, I sprinted to the door and slammed it shut, yanking it from Connie's grasp. She appeared shocked at first, then softened. She had gotten to know me better than I knew myself in the short time we had spent living together.

"Do you have something to say to me or were you trying to break my hand." The corner of her lip turned up, the beginning of a smile despite her tear stained cheeks and glistening eyelashes.

"Don't." I said.

"Don't what?" She repeated as she rested her hand on her hip.

"Don't …"

"Words." My mother used to say to me. "Use words when you want something, Ricky. Tell me what you want. Mami and Papi will give you anything we can just tell us what you want."

I began to hyperventilate. A lump formed in my throat. Connie's smile was fading.

She tugged on the door handle. "I should go, Ranger."

"No!" I shouted. "Don't…" Still not quite able to speak coherently.

Softly Connie pleaded. "If you have something to say to me, Ranger, just say it, please. Just say it."

"Don't …" I began again, sounding like a broken record.

"Don't what? Don't open the door? Don't shut the door? Talk to me, Ranger." My resolve crumbling, I closed my eyes. Counted to ten and took a breath.

She pulled back, hurt, searing, lazers into my eyes and shouted. "Don't what, Ranger? Tell me or I'm going to leave right now and I won't be back." She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. "Talk to me, dammit. Tell me what you don't want me to do." She begged. "Please!"

Tank screamed. Les hit the back of my head with his hand. My mother and father dropped their heads while Ella swatted me with a bloody dishtowel.

"Ranger?" Connie questioned, now fully aware of my state, then moved closer. She was near enough that I felt her breath on lips. She rested her warm hands, one on each side of my face, then touched her lips to mine. "Tell me what you want, Baby," she whispered as she had earlier in my daydream. "Tell me what you want from !me?" Those words. Those were the words she had used. My heart shot open, stone began to crumble, a growing ray of light shot right through the abyss. Suddenly more aware, I accepted her gliding tongue along my lips and allowed it to dip it into my mouth. She moaned. _Dios_! I groaned. My vision was coming true.

I took her waist, pulled her to me, then let one hand slip to her back and the other up under her sweater. She'd worn that damned purple sweater with the pearl buttons. My thumb grazed the bare flesh.

"Please don't go. Don't go to Italy. Not now." I took her by the shoulders again. "Cancel your flight. Stay with me. I can't bear the thought of living without you, Connie. Let me be the one to take you to Italy."

"And Stephanie?"

"I told you. We had a deal. She broke it. I'm done. I haven't loved her in a very long time. I know that now." I rattled off so quickly, I wasn't certain I'd be understood.

"When did you stop loving her?" She was testing me. My determination.

I hesitated. Took a breath then touched her cheek with the back of my hand.

"When I fell in love with you."

"That's all you had to say." She smiled and my heart exploded. Fireworks, like the Fourth of July, detonated above us. "Now kiss me, you fool."

"Yes, ma'am."

Lifting her at the waist I spun her around in circles before I settled her back on the ground then kissed her, as she'd commanded. Cool hands slid under my jacket then traveled up and down by back.

I pushed back slightly then took her hand and lead her down the cold metal stairs and into my apartment where we left a trail of shoes and pants and shirts along the way to the bedroom.

I brushed a sweaty tress from her forehead then said, "you should call Ray to cancel your ticket so he can get his money back."

"Um. About that." Her swollen lips grazed mine. "There is no ticket."

"No ticket?" I pretended to be surprised.

"Nope." She whispered in my ear with a pop just before she dragged her tongue against my earlobe.

"You weren't actually going to Italy, were you?"

Sliding her left leg over mine, while rubbing shamelessly against me, she whispered, "Never. Not without you, anyway."

"Why did you really come here, this morning? You said you wanted to get some things. What did you leave behind?"

"You." Her warm hand caressed me again. It was difficult for me to fit words together to form a complete coherent sentence.

"Then why …?"

"Why did I insist that you make it a go with Stephanie? I had to be sure. My ex cheated on me and it hurt like hell. I vowed I'd never do that to another woman. I kept pushing you away because I had to be positive that it was really over between you and Stephanie, that there was nothing left and you were truly free." She lowered her gaze then added, "and that you wanted me."

I splayed my hands across her back and rested my thumbs in the small dent above her ass.

"Your sweater. Purple. Pearl buttons." I glanced toward the floor where the illustrious sweater lay a crumpled pile. You were wearing it the other morning."

"I did. You seemed to like it." A slightly mischievous smile began.

"You wore it deliberately today, didn't you?" I lowered my voice into a husky whisper and added, "without a bra," like it was a big, dirty secret. "Were you trying to seduce me?" I held tightly to her firm, round ass.

"I was," she admitted, once she had positioned herself above me. "Am I naughty? Should I be punished?" she questioned, as she lowered herself down onto my body, her breast pressing against my chest, and her sex bearing down on against mine. _Dios_! It was my turn to whimper.

Epilogue

I stand here leaning lazily against the nursery door frame. The walls are newly painted in a unisex tint of light lemon yellow and dotted with assorted animated character cutouts from Sesame Street, Curious George and more. Coordinating curtains trace the window frames beside an empty cradle on one side of the room and a crib in the other. In the corner of the room, my wife, my woman, the light of my life, sits in her grandmother's rocker, and nurses our newest addition. Our daughter's big brown eyes are mesmerized and focused on her mother as she softly sings an Italian lullaby. She seems to be smiling back up at her. My own smile deepens as those luscious lips blow me a kiss. I cannot hold back any longer. I kneel beside two of my most prized possessions.

"Did I wake you when I got up?" Her soft, warm hand strokes my cheek.

"No. It was just your absence that woke me."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It can't be helped until she sleeps through the night." I can't resist. I drag a lazy finger across her swollen bare breast.

Rosa purses her lips then coos as she releases her mother.

"Do you want to hold her?"

My love lifts our tiny baby and holds her up in the air for me to take her. She snuggles into her Papi's arms and drifts off to sleep.

"She's so beautiful."

"Like her mother." I say as I place a soft kiss on my new daughter's dark tuft of hair.

Connie hugs my arm then rests her head on my shoulder with the love and tenderness I have come to expect and enjoy on a daily basis.

My life has changed dramatically in the past few years. Soon after Connie and I joined forces and became an official couple, I took her to Italy, as I'd promised. She found the husband she was seeking when we married in a small chapel in her family's home town, then conceived the small life asleep in the corner crib. Jokingly, we say she was made in Italy. Rosa was conceived while on vacation in Cancun, Mexico.

During one particularly emotional midnight phone conversation, days after the calls I'd made to her family and Morelli, Stephanie hit rock bottom and admitted to me that she had a problem and begged me to intervene, and stop any further downfall, saying she would willingly accept whatever help I could give her. With Connie's blessing, knowing I had to succeed in this fight for my friend's life, I gave it one more shot and returned her to Joe in DC where together, we got her into the best drug and alcohol program the FBI could provide. She's still struggling, but she's come a long way. She doesn't win every battle but she is going to win this war. The old Stephanie is back and she's wrestling with her addictions with a zeal and determination that she can be proud of. We're pals again and that pleases me.

With Connie's ex-husband's house sold, and the deed to her grandmother's house in her hands, thanks to Uncle Ray and Robert Trapula, we completely renovated her childhood home. There is space for Uncle Ray, when he's ready, Papi, when he needs to get away from my siblings, and any more children we may decide to have.

"Thank you." Connie says, pulling me from my reveries.

"For what, _mi amante_?" My love.

"Everything. This house, Italy, these beautiful children," she chuckles, slightly embarrassed, "even the dog." She continues, "but most of all for your love and devotion to it all. I know this isn't what you wanted." Tears appear in her eyes. I brush them away. We've had this conversation before.

"Are you happy, Connie? Have I made you happy?"

"Of course you have. How could I not be happy? I have everything I have ever wanted and more. You're an amazing husband and father." She vacillated for a beat, as she always did. "What about you, Ranger? Are you satisfied with me and the way your life has turned out? Are you happy?"

"I'm happy, Baby. I'm very, very happy." I reassure her.

I think back to a time long ago when I was much younger, when all I wanted out of life was a different woman every night and a new war to fight in a foreign country the next morning. As time passed, I satisfied myself with my new business ventures and the occasional lust filled night with a strange female from the parade of women and the one I knew I could never have. Subsequently, whether by accident, or kismet or fate, as I helped a nemesis in need, I fell madly in love with the woman before me.

I peek across the room at the the sleeping child in her bed, the angel in my arms, and the woman who made it all possible for me. "This life. This is what I wanted all along. I know that now. I just didn't know it then."

"Are you sure, Baby?" Connie takes our newest child from my arms and settles her in the frilly bassinet then covers her with the tattered quilt.

"I am." Rosa looks up at me and smiles. My heart spills. "I was thinking."

"About what?"

I hit the light switch then take Connie's hand, the one wearing my mother's ring and the more lavish one that I bought for her, as we cross the long hallway toward our bedroom door.

"I don't think that Rosa and Maria should grow up alone."

Connie had grown up without siblings, but had many cousins in her home. I spent my early years in a house full of children, laughter, and love.

"What are you saying? You want another baby?" Connie sounds surprised as she settles herself on her side of the bed then I slide in beside her.

"I do. Maybe a son next time? I'd like a son to carry my name." I pull my wife into me and slide my hand up under her nightgown.

"We already have two little girls in diapers. Are you sure you want another one?"

"Yes."

"We're getting older."

"Well, then. The sooner the better. We should get started. " I grin a sly, naughty smile.

"It's not my decision, you know that. It's yours and there's a fifty-fifty chance that we could have another girl." I touch her and her eyelids close.

"Well, we'll just have to keep on trying, won't we?" I whisper as her sleepwear hits the floor.

"Maybe we could go to Spain this time or France. We always seem to get pregnant when we travel."

"Maybe." I say as lower myself onto the woman I cannot resist. "Or maybe he should be made here in the USA."

Our lips touch and I feel that initial spark that I felt that morning, our first kiss and again during our first time together, and how I had not wanted our stolen moments together to end. She is my friend, lover, soul mate, and keeper of my light.


End file.
